


And I Willingly Submit to You (Because I love the Way You Dominate Me)

by pasdexcuses



Series: Submission Verse [1]
Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Body Paint, Cock Rings, Discipline, Dom/sub, Flogging, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Play, Prostitution, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Vibrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasdexcuses/pseuds/pasdexcuses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark hires a dom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Willingly Submit to You (Because I love the Way You Dominate Me)

**Disclaimer:** This work is based on the characters as portrayed in the movie The Social Network, not real people. And, obviously, I’m not making any money from this. 

****

**__** **_And I Willingly Submit to You (Because I love the Way You Dominate Me)_ **   
 

**i.**

  
“Mark, answer me.”  
   
“Ngh.”  
   
“ _Mark_.”  
   
“Yes.”  
   
“Yes?”  
   
“Yes,  _sir_.”  
   
“That’s better.”  
   
“ _Shiiit_.”  
   
“Did you just swear, Mark? What have I told you about swearing?”  
   
“ _God_ —”  
   
“Answer me, Mark.”  
   
“That I… Oh, fu—”  
   
“Should I gag you? You’re being absurdly loud tonight.”  
   
“N-no.”  
   
“Really? ‘Cause from where I’m standing it looks like you need a little punishment. But I won’t. Wanna know why, Mark?”  
   
“Wh-why, sir?”  
   
“Because you haven’t answered my question. Now, let’s try again. Where do you want this?”  
   
Taking a step away from Mark, Eduardo flings the vibrator in front of him and waits.  
   
Mark’s cheeks are already flushed but when Eduardo turns on the first setting, his blush creeps down to his neck.  
   
“I’m being very patient, Mark, but we can’t really stay in this bathroom forever, now, can we?”  
   
Mark shudders before he answers, “No, sir.”  
   
“So?”  
   
“In me,” Mark grits out, barely audible.  
   
Eduardo moves forward to stand in between Mark’s legs once more. Placing a hand on Mark’s cock, Eduardo traces his thumb over the head. Once, twice and a third time.  
   
“I couldn’t hear you,” he says into the shell of Mark’s ear.  
   
Eduardo feels Mark flinch. He listens to Mark inhale deeply.  
   
“In me,” Mark answers.  
   
Eduardo can see how white Mark’s knuckles are as he grips the handle bar. _Whoever invented accessible bathrooms is a genius_ , Eduardo thinks somewhere in the back of his mind.  
   
“In you?” Eduardo asks, pretending he doesn’t understand. “In you,” he starts as he removes his hand from Mark’s cock. Eduardo places his thumb over Mark’s bottom lip. “In you as in, in your mouth?”  
   
“No,” Mark pants.  
   
“Then where, Mark?” Eduardo asks. This time he makes sure the still-vibrating plug is flush against Mark’s skin.  
   
Mark closes his eyes. Breathes in and out a couple of times before staring straight at Eduardo.  
   
If there is one thing about Mark that Eduardo adores it is how defiant he is, even when he’s not in control. Even when he’s not supposed to be in control. It’s a quality that makes Eduardo think they could’ve been friends in another life.  
   
A life where Mark isn’t the creator of the world’s largest networking site.  
   
A life where Eduardo doesn’t have sex for money.  
   
But Mark is, and Eduardo does.  
   
So when Mark takes Eduardo’s hand in his, placing it between his ass cheeks, Eduardo smirks.  
   
“I think I specifically told you no hands,” Eduardo whispers, his finger already dipping inside of Mark.  
   
Eduardo loves the smirk that spreads across Mark’s face as he replies, “Forgive me,  _sir_.”  
   
Shaking his head, Eduardo removes his finger and takes a couple of steps away from Mark. He turns off the vibrator to place it inside his messenger bag. He leaves the toy and grabs a bottle of lube before walking back to Mark.  
   
“Turn around and spread your legs,” Eduardo orders.  
   
Mark complies as Eduardo opens the bottle and starts warming up the lube. When he considers his fingers sufficiently slick and warm, Eduardo reaches in between Mark’s legs. He makes a mess on Mark’s ass on purpose, so Mark feels the slickness every time he moves. So Mark feels slippery and wet.  
   
He starts with a finger, strokes lightly, circles for a bit. When he pushes two fingers in, Mark moans.  
   
“I really think I should gag you,” Eduardo comments as his fingers start scissoring Mark open.  
   
Eduardo avoids brushing against Mark’s prostate as best as he can. After all, he doesn’t want to spoil the fun.  
   
When Mark crouches a little, Eduardo puts his arm across Mark’s torso, holding him up. Holding him in place.  
   
He pushes a third finger in soon after that.  
   
Mark groans, uses Eduardo as leverage to press into Eduardo’s fingers. But Eduardo is a professional. He’s expecting this move.  
   
Just as Mark makes his move, Eduardo slips all three fingers out.  
   
“I brought handcuffs with me. I’ll tie you up if I have to.” Eduardo traces the line of Mark’s spine as he speaks. “Understood?”  
   
“Yes, sir.”  
   
“Good. Now, without moving your hands, take two steps back.”  
   
Mark does as he’s told, and the result is Mark’s ass being exposed.  
   
From this angle, Eduardo can see Mark’s cock, hard, so fucking hard.  
   
Eduardo would be lying if he said he didn’t want to fuck Mark right then and there. But he has plans.  
   
He takes the vibrator out again, covers it with lube. Eduardo stands on the side of Mark’s hip, placing a hand on his pale ass before he strikes. He spanks Mark twice, watches with a certain fascination the way Mark’s white skin becomes angry red in an instant. Watches his fingerprints slowly start to fade. He strikes a third time.  
   
“You like that, don’t you, Mark.”  
   
It’s more a statement than it is a question. Eduardo doesn’t even wait for Mark to answer. Instead, he places the head of the vibrator at Mark’s entrance, pushing in slowly. Eduardo doesn’t miss the slight tremor in Mark’s thighs. He doesn’t stop. Eduardo knows Mark can take this.  
   
Giving Mark a few seconds to accommodate the vibrator, Eduardo lets it rest inside Mark. They don’t move for a moment, Mark’s labored breath the only sound inside the bathroom stall.  
   
As Mark’s breathing starts to ease into something akin to normal, Eduardo reaches for the vibrator, taking it out before pushing it back in. He repeats the motion, changing angles every couple of thrusts. Eduardo does this until he feels Mark clenching around the toy. Then, Eduardo pushes whatever was left of the vibrator inside of Mark. Stares at it being swallowed up by Mark’s ass. Eduardo can barely make out the small, circular base once it’s all inside.  
   
Eduardo pushes it, and Mark’s knees almost buckle but not quite.  
   
Smiling to himself, Eduardo goes back to his messenger bag. He wipes his hands with the tissues he brought because toilet paper sticks to the lube, and, believe or not, time is of the essence. He takes out a large ring and a small remote.  
   
The first thing Eduardo does is press the first setting on the remote. This time, Mark’s knees do buckle. Eduardo puts the remote inside his pocket.  
   
“Stay still,” Eduardo orders as Mark almost kneels on the floor.  
   
It takes a few seconds for Mark to return to his original position. With Mark like that, Eduardo doubles his body over Mark’s, reaching for Mark’s cock. Eduardo rests his chin on Mark’s shoulder. From there, he can see the head of Mark’s cock shiny with pre-come. Eduardo uses his hand on Mark’s dick to hold him in place as he slips the ring on. Tracing the length of Mark’s cock, Eduardo takes note of just how straining the ring is. He prides himself on picking the right size for Mark. Not that it’s any surprise. Eduardo is nothing if not professional.  
   
His fingers ghost over Mark’s cock. He touches lightly until Mark groans low in his throat.  
   
“This is punishment, Mark,” Eduardo whispers into Mark’s ear.  
   
He hears Mark swallow hard.  
   
Stepping away, Eduardo glances at his wristwatch.  
   
“Put your clothes back on. I’ll be outside,” Eduardo says. “Oh, and I think it’s best if you don’t make me wait. I hate walking in when the movie’s already started.”

 

*  
  
Eduardo does not think he’ll soon forget the way Mark looked when he walked out of the bathroom. The way every step seemed calculated. The way he would suddenly stop or grab Eduardo’s arm for support.  
   
But now, with Mark all but squirming in his seat, Eduardo has other things to worry about. He made sure they were seated in a far corner at the top. The theater is probably the least busy one in the area, and the movie they’re seeing is definitely the least appealing. For the hour, the place is practically deserted.  
   
Eduardo always does his homework.  
   
Bending down so his mouth is on Mark’s ear, Eduardo whispers, “Do you like this, Mark? Do you like being wet inside your pants while other people are in the room and there is absolutely  _nothing_ you can do about it?”  
   
Mark doesn’t look at Eduardo.  
   
“Mark, when I ask you a question I expect you to answer. We’re gonna have to work on your communication skills.”  
   
Mark’s mouth turns up in what would’ve been a smirk if he weren’t otherwise entertained.  
   
“I like it, sir,” Mark answers after a pause, eyes still trained on the screen.  
   
Eduardo takes this surge of defiance as the opening he’d been waiting for to palm Mark through his jeans. He can feel Mark hard underneath. He can feel the wetness he saw in the bathroom and wonders if it’ll soak through. Well, there’s a reason Eduardo made sure Mark wore that pair of jeans tonight.  
   
“If I touched your nipples, would they be hard?”  
   
“Yes, sir.”  
   
“How hard?”  
   
“Very.”  
   
“Let’s take a look,” Eduardo mutters, slinging his arm behind Mark’s back.  
   
It’s a bit of a stretch but Eduardo manages to snake his hand under Mark’s shirt. And yes, Mark’s nipples are undeniably hard.  
   
Eduardo lets out a soft laugh.  
   
“You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you? Whatever am I gonna do with you?”  
   
“Fuck me, sir.”  
   
This time, Eduardo’s laugh is loud enough that someone shushes him.  
   
Removing his hand, Eduardo whispers back, “I told you this was punishment.”  
   
And with that, Eduardo turns the vibrator on to the second setting.  
   
He watches in delight as Mark almost doubles over, knees pressed tightly together.  
   
“Spread your knees and stay still, Mark.”  
   
*  
   
After the movie is over, they’re the last to leave. Mark can barely move, and Eduardo patiently waits for him to get used to standing up.  
   
The ride back to Mark’s place is deadly silent.  
   
Eduardo has to admit it’s an accomplishment on its own to have rendered Mark Zuckerberg speechless.  
   
They don’t speak until Mark lets them inside, and Eduardo orders him to take out his laptop.  
   
“You love to code, right? You said that when we first met. Why don’t you go and do some coding while I set up for tonight?”  
   
At first, Mark looks puzzled but when Eduardo stares straight at him, he walks slowly, disappearing into his studio.  
   
“Sit at the dinner table,” Eduardo commands before going upstairs.  
   
It takes Eduardo all of five minutes to lay out the toys. A long, silicon dildo curved at the end. Two floggers. Two bottles of lube and two packages of condoms. His tissues and two sets of handcuffs. Looking at the items laid out on Mark’s large nightstand, Eduardo thinks it’s a mystery how it all fit in his messenger bag.  Eduardo opens the fourth drawer in Mark’s closet where he knows Mark keeps strips of old clothes.  
   
Eduardo sits on the edge of Mark’s bed for fifteen more minutes, checking his messages and staring at the ceiling.  
   
Once twenty minutes have passed, Eduardo heads downstairs, thinking Mark must have had enough time to settle in.  
   
He switches the vibrator to the third setting.  
   
“ _Motherfucker_.”  
   
“You have such a filthy mouth,” Eduardo comments, taking out a chair for himself. Upon noticing the typing hasn’t resumed, he adds, “Did I say you could stop coding?”  
   
Mark starts again but this time his typing is much, much slower. Eduardo watches Mark stop every now and then, stretching his fingers and biting down hard on his bottom lip.  
   
“Can you multitask, Mark?”  
   
“Depends on the ta-task.”  
   
“I take it the two currently at hand don’t go together too well.”  
   
“No, sir.”  
   
“Do not stop, Mark.”  
   
Eduardo switches to the fourth setting.  
   
“ _Ah!_ ”  
   
Mark curls his fists tightly.  
   
“Continue.”  
   
Mark doesn’t.  
   
“ _Mark_.”  
   
Eduardo waits. Counts down from ten in his head. Mark starts when he reaches four.  
   
“I bet you could come like this, what do you think? Can I make you come with just the vibrator inside you?”  
   
“I… I don’t,  _ah_ , know,  _sir_.”  
   
“I think I could. I think I could make you cream your pants just with that toy inside you and me talking dirty. Because you’re a whore who likes to have something up his ass, aren’t you?”  
   
“Yes, sir.”  
   
“What are you, Mark?”  
   
Mark doesn’t miss a beat even though his typing is slacking off again.  
   
“A whore who likes it up his ass, sir.”  
   
“And what do sluts like you deserve?”  
   
“To be punished, sir.”  
   
“You’re enjoying this, you filthy slut.”  
   
It isn’t a question but Mark still answers, “Yes, sir.”  
   
“Well, this can’t be much of a punishment then.”  
   
With that, Eduardo turns the vibrator to the fifth and last setting.  
   
“Stop typing and look at me.”  
   
Mark is staring with teary eyes at him, his hips moving slightly in the chair.  
   
“Touch yourself, Mark.”  
   
Hesitantly, Mark puts his palm on his own crotch. He moans low in his throat.  
   
“Tell me, Mark, are those jeans soaking through?”  
   
“N-no.”  
   
“Really? Touch yourself more, like you mean it.”  
   
Mark does.  
   
“How about now?”  
   
Mark shakes his head, clearly not even able to speak.  
   
Eduardo smirks.  
   
“Stop touching yourself and look at me. Mark, you’re a filthy, wanton slut who belongs to  _me_. I am the one who fucks you. I am the one who makes you come. No one else. Not even yourself. You do not touch yourself unless I tell you to and no one else touches you. Are we clear?”  
   
Mark nods vehemently.  
   
“Answer me.”  
   
“Ye— yes.”  
   
“Yes, what?”  
   
“ _Sir_ ,” Mark breathes out before he almost yells out a moan. “ _Please_ ,” he pants next. “ _Please_ , let… let me come.”  
   
“Not yet, Mark. This is punishment, remember? Now, stand up.”  
   
Gripping the edge of the table, Mark makes a move to do so but he falls quickly back to the chair.  
   
“I will not repeat myself tonight, Mark,” Eduardo warns.  
   
Mark makes another attempt. He manages to take two steps but he’s soon falling into Eduardo for support.  
   
Eduardo takes Mark’s wrists into his hands to avoid contact.  
   
“If you can’t walk, you’ll crawl.”  
   
Letting go slowly, Eduardo watches Mark blush as he gets on his hands and knees. Mark’s body is shaking all over. It takes them a while to climb up the stairs, Mark stopping to pant, never uttering a single word.  
   
“Strip to your boxers,” Eduardo orders when they reach the master bedroom.  
   
Mark does so. Starts off with his hoodie and shirt. He kicks off his shoes next and bends down with some difficulty to take off his socks. Inhaling deeply, Mark tries to unbutton his jeans but his first attempt is a failed one. Eduardo taps his foot. Breathing in, Mark tries again, gets the button but stops at the zipper. Undoing the zipper like he ’s about to uncover a ticking bomb, Mark sighs heavily when his erection is finally out in the open. Getting the jeans off after that seems to be an apparently easier task.  
   
Mark stands in his boxers, his cock clearly hard. Eduardo moves to palm Mark’s dick. He grabs it unceremoniously, feels the soft fabric of Mark’s boxers soaked at the tip.  
   
“Touch yourself.”  
   
Without hesitation, Mark takes his own dick in hand over his boxers. He moans loudly, almost falling over into Eduardo. Almost.  
   
“Now, are you soaking through?”  
   
“Y-yes, sir.”  
   
Smirking, Eduardo stops Mark’s hand and finishes getting Mark undressed.  
   
Mark is still trembling when Eduardo half-carries him to the bed where he handcuffs his wrists to the headboard. Mark is quite the vision like this. Stark naked on his own bed, cock rock hard and shiny. Eduardo can even smell Mark’s musky scent, which is both slightly weird and extremely arousing. He can smell the pre-come all over Mark’s dick, and he can see the dampness that runs down his cock, trailing down to his ass. His legs twitch, and Eduardo thinks it’s time to set the vibrator back to the first level.   
   
“One day, Mark, you’ll learn how to be a nice little slut and I won’t have to tie you all up,” Eduardo says. “Now, what do you want? Leather or deer hide?” Eduardo asks, holding up both floggers.  
   
“Lea— _aahh_ , leather.”  
   
“How many do you think? I think five for mouthing off. Three for not complying with orders as soon as they’re given out. Another three for your poor communication skills. And an extra two just because. Do you agree this is a fair arrangement?”  
   
“Yes.” Mark breathes. “Sir.”  
   
“Count them.”  
   
Eduardo strikes Mark’s right upper thigh first.  
   
“One,” Mark squeaks out.  
   
The left upper thigh is next.  
   
“Two.”  
   
Mark’s chest.  
   
“Three.”  
   
“Spread your legs.”  
   
Mark’s right inner thigh.  
   
“Four.”  
   
Left.  
   
“Five.”  
   
His upper thigh, once.  
   
His chest, two times.  
   
Inner thigh, one.  
   
Arms, one.  
   
Below the knee, one.  
   
Mark’s crotch, one.  
   
Inner thigh, one.  
   
“Thir— _ngh_ -teen.”  
   
Eduardo takes a moment to appreciate Mark’s cock. It’s dark and slippery. It looks painful where the ring is.  
   
“ _Please_ ,” Mark breathes out, hips moving forward.

 

Eduardo thinks it’s a good thing Mark can tolerate pain. It’s a good thing he’s still hard.  
   
“Please, what?”  
   
“Let me, let me come, sir.”  
   
“Ah, and why should I?”  
   
“It  _hurts_.”  
   
“Does it now?”  
   
Mark nods.  
   
“Here?” Eduardo asks innocently, placing a hand over Mark’s erection.  
   
He thumbs carefully the head of Mark’s cock, watches as Mark scrunches his face.  
   
“Yes, sir.”  
   
“Really? ‘Cause, from here, it looks rather like you’re enjoying this.”  
   
“I— I  _need_ to, please, please, please.”  
   
“Need to what?”  
   
“To come, please.”  
   
“And so you’re even willing to beg for it, huh? You better try harder, Mark. I’m not convinced.”  
   
Mark looks confused before looking utterly embarrassed.  
   
Cute.  
   
“Sir, please,” Mark starts. “I need to.” Stops as Eduardo circles his head with more intent. “Need to come, please.”  
   
“And why is that?”  
   
“Why?”  
   
“Yes, why do you need to come so badly?”  
   
“Because I’m a slut, who,  _ah_ , likes it when his,  _ah aahh_ , master toys with him.”  
   
“Why else?”  
   
Eduardo can see traces of defiance in Mark’s face. He doubles his work on his dick.  
   
“Because… because I like to be dominated,” Mark whispers.  
   
“I couldn’t hear you, Mark.”  
   
“Because I’m a whore, who likes to be dominated.”  
   
“That is right, Mark,” Eduardo concedes, stroking Mark.  
   
“Sir, please.”  
   
“You’ve convinced me, Mark. That you deserve this.”  
   
Eduardo stands back to get the keys to the handcuffs.  
   
Freeing Mark, Eduardo orders him, “Take the cock ring off.”  
   
Mark follows Eduardo’s order immediately, sighing heavily when the cock ring finally slips past the head of his dick.  
   
“Now touch yourself. Touch yourself until you come all over the place.” Watching Mark’s hand on his own dick, Eduardo continues, “You can do it, can’t you, Mark? You like this so much, this is hardly a task at all. You like being ordered around. You fucking like being dominated. It makes your dick hard as a rock. Makes its head slippery wet. Makes your nipples hard. Makes you want to to come  _so fucking_ ba—”  
   
And just like that, Mark is moaning loudly, screaming  _fuck_ again and again. He gets come all over the bed.  
   
But he also makes that one mistake.  
   
“You didn’t ask permission, Mark.”  
   
Mark visibly freezes when Eduardo speaks.  
   
“I…”  
   
“No, no. What was our first rule?”  
   
“That I…” Mark swallows. “That I should ask permission to come.”  
   
“And when should you ask permission to come?”  
   
“Always.”  
   
“Always. Motherfucking  _always_. And you didn’t. Now, Mark, not only am I gonna flog your pasty, white ass, I’m also gonna make you come from it. On your hands and knees,  _slut_.”  
   
The first thing Eduardo does is turn the vibrator to the highest level.  
   
The second thing is grab the soft deer hide flogger.  
   
The third is hit hard Mark’s ass hard. Slap it across and watch Mark tremble with the force of the impact.  
   
“Count. Them.”  
   
“One.”  
   
Eduardo strikes six more times in a row.  
   
Before the seventh, he traces the flogger down Mark’s spine.  
   
Before the eleventh, Eduardo flings the flogger over Mark’s balls.  
   
“Are you going to come like this, you slut?”  
   
“I…”  
   
“ _Answer me._ ”  
   
Fourteen.  
   
“Yes,” Mark breathes out.  
   
“We’ve been over this,” Eduardo repeats, striking again. “Yes, what?” Again.  
   
Seventeen.  
   
“Yes,  _sir_ ,” Mark mutters under his breath.  
   
“And you better ask permission.”  
   
“Yes, sir.”  
   
Twenty-one.  
   
“You like being flogged. You like being treated like the whore you are. You’re gonna come from this because there’s a vibrator up your fucking ass, buzzing against your prostate. You’re gonna come because I, your master, am flogging you because you  _deserve_ it. You’re gonna come like this, from my voice, from my flogger, and from that vibrator inside you. Are you gonna come, Mark?”  
   
“Yes, sir.”  
   
Twenty-three.  
   
“You’re going to come because you’re a slut.”  
   
“ _Yes_ ,” Mark hisses. “Please, please, can I come?”  
   
“No.”  
   
Twenty-four.  
   
“Please, sir.”  
   
“No.”  
   
Twenty-five.  
   
“Sir, I apologize. Please, let me come.”  
   
“No.”  
   
Twenty-six.  
   
“Sir, sir, please.”  
   
“No.”  
   
Twenty-seven.  
   
“Let me come, please,  _Master_.”  
   
At this, Eduardo smiles.  
   
“You can come, slut.”  
   
And Mark does. Comes again. Hard and fast.  
   
But this isn’t over. Eduardo isn’t one to forget, and Mark has been fucking disobedient tonight.  
   
Stopping the vibrator altogether, Eduardo takes it out just before Mark slumps on the bed.  
   
“On your hands and knees,” Eduardo orders.  
   
It takes a moment for Mark to comply but he does, panting furiously.  
   
“We’re not done. You’ve been a fucking disobedient bitch tonight.”

 

*  
   
There are very few things you need to know about Eduardo. The first is that he comes from a rich family but was disowned when he turned nineteen. Irreconcilable differences. Eduardo would never go back to that life. It has been behind him for a while, and Eduardo likes it that way. This does not mean Eduardo forgets about it. As it is, growing up filthy rich has allowed him to hold his own at social meetings. It has allowed Eduardo to know what to say, how to act. He has an instinctive knowledge for spotting who to talk to and who should be avoided.  
   
The second thing is that Eduardo doesn’t give his real name to clients unless he has to sign a contract.  
   
Third, Eduardo is twenty-seven and looking into early retirement because yes, that’s how much money he makes.  
   
It’s probably good to note that Eduardo isn’t always a dom.  
   
What he always is, however, is a whore. A prostitute. An escort. Call it what you will.  
   
He has sex for money, and he likes it.  
   
It isn’t about the money, but Eduardo has to admit he’s a fucking expensive whore if there ever was one.  
   
He charges by the hour and triples his rate when clients ask for whole nights. He works with an agency more because he can’t be bothered to spend time looking for clients than anything else.  
   
Eduardo offers a lot of services that most escorts refuse.  
   
However, his extra charges are sometimes more expensive than the single hour.  
   
He makes more money in a week like this than he would if he had a regular job.  
   
Eduardo is not going to say it isn’t a good life because, to some extent, it is.  
   
He loves what he does for a living. Because even if he has to accommodate when and where, Eduardo always gets to choose who and what, and that makes all the difference.  
   
His most-booked services are those of a regular escort. Being a date to this or that gala. Spending a couple of hours going down on a forty-year-old professional woman who won’t waste her time on dates before fucking her senseless.  
   
These services include types, as his agency puts it.  
   
The more the client can tell about what he or she wants, the more accurately the agency can match them to one of their escorts. Some want the usual, the anonymity of having sex with a stranger. Some like “the guy next door,” want him to look like a regular neighbor would look in the perfect suburban home. There are people who want all the glamour that can come with paying the exorbitant amount of money they pay for Eduardo. Some clients say hard. Some clients say soft.  
   
Eduardo doesn’t kiss his clients unless they kiss him first. He doesn’t talk about it. He works purely on people’s assumptions.  
   
Then, Eduardo is one of the select few who is qualified to provide “special” services. Read: Eduardo is one of the four people in the agency that is qualified to participate in bondage scenarios. These are Eduardo’s most expensive services. He charges a fuck-ton for them and is always very explicit about this:  _he_ will be the dominating partner. There is no negotiating this. No middle ground. No nothing. Take it or leave it.  
   
Because it isn’t like Eduardo needs the extra cash.  
   
Over time, Eduardo has come to notice that clients who pay for these services are usually scouting for a long-term partner.  
   
His first time as regular dom happens almost by accident. See, Eduardo had this regular who slowly worked his way into asking Eduardo to whip him. Then came the floggers, the butt plugs, until the man was coming to Eduardo once a week just to be bossed around. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even come. Eventually, the man presented Eduardo with a contract.  
   
“How much do you make a week?”  
   
“You can’t afford me for a whole  _week_.”  
   
“A hundred thousand dollars for a whole month. No other partners. Just you and me. Not every day, obviously. Twice a week.”  
   
Eduardo said he would think about it. He ended up not taking the deal because he wanted to consult what exactly would entail being someone’s partner.  
   
Three months later, Eduardo called his client.  
   
“Is the offer still on the table?”  
   
And that’s how he got his first sub.  
   
So, Eduardo is only a dominant partner for one person at a time. He doesn’t do escort services during that time. Instead, he invests in companies. Sometimes, he even surprises himself by making more money in the stock market than he would regularly.  
   
But that doesn’t happen often.  
   
*

 

One day, Eduardo gets a call from Christy. He’s already saying “no” before Christy speaks because Christy almost always wants to book him new clients. And Eduardo doesn’t like taking on new clients. It’s complicated getting used to what people want. Because sometimes people don’t even know what they want, and that’s too messy for him. However, Christy catches his attention when she says, “New client looking for a dom. A lot of money.”

 

Eduardo hasn’t had a sub in a while. He doesn’t crave it, per se. It’s not like he has this great, unsatisfied urge lurking at the back of his head. But he does like the idea.

 

“He’s gonna call you tomorrow.”

 

“You gave him my number?” Eduardo asks, incredulous.

 

“Oh, Eduardo, trust me. He’s your type.”

 

“You say that about everyone.”

 

“Yeah, but I don’t go and give your number to all of them, do I?”

 

That seems like reason enough for Christy because she hangs up.

 

The client does call the next day. He starts off by saying something about confidentiality, saying a lot of things that make no sense to Eduardo and, “Chris is already on the verge of cutting off my head for making him help me draw the NDA, so I have to stress my need for privacy, as ironic as that may be.”

 

“Why don’t we talk about this in person, Mr…?”

 

“I’ve been advised against revealing my name until you’ve signed some papers. Listen, I’ve got to go back to work but I’ll text you my address. Will that be okay?”

 

“I… Yeah, sure.”

 

*    
   
Eduardo takes care in drawing up the first draft of their contract.

 

The first rule in it is no bodily fluids except spit and come. Technically, the documents read  _with the exception of saliva and semen, no other corporal fluids will be part of the interactions between both parties_. But when Eduardo starts going over the contract with Mark, that’s how he presents point one: nothing but spit and come. It makes Mark smirk.  
   
“What if we change our minds?”  
   
“I won’t, and if you think you will, you better tell me now,” Eduardo replies very seriously, because if this is going to work, they have to be on the same page.

 

“Okay. So blood is not your thing. What about the things I don’t like?” Mark asks.

 

“You tell me about those.”

 

“When?”

 

“Now would be a good time.” Mark blushes, ducking his chin. “You… You don’t know, do you?” Eduardo doesn’t need an answer form Mark. He already knows. “You have a safe word for these things. If there’s something you don’t like, use it.” Mark is looking at everything he can find that is not Eduardo. “Mark, look at me.” Biting his lip, Mark gives Eduardo a quick glance before he turns his attention to something behind Eduardo. “Mark,” Eduardo repeats and this time, Mark’s eyes stay on Eduardo. “Now, is there anything you _think_ you won’t like?”

 

Mark frowns. “Wax?”

 

“Like candles?”

 

“Yeah… I… nothing with fire. I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” Mark says. “And what’s this food thing?” he asks next, pointing at the contract.  
   
And that’s Eduardo’s second rule: eating. He explains: he doesn’t care what, when or where, but Mark has to feed himself three times a day. It’s not a question. It’s a safety issue.  
   
Third point is no, under any circumstances, other partners.  
   
“This agreement goes both ways, right?” Mark asks skeptically.  
   
“When I take a submissive partner, I like to focus my attention.”  
   
“Huh.”  
   
Eduardo also tells Mark that he has scheduled an appointment for a blood test to screen for STDs. Mark is required to join him. It’ll make their lives easier.  
   
Mark nods and moves on to number four: a fixed schedule.  
   
It’s not that Eduardo is some sort of closet OCD case but getting into the mentality of being the dominating partner, well, it takes time. He works best with a fixed day.

 

While negotiating the contract, Eduardo discovers perhaps the most important thing he’ll ever know about Mark. Mark Zuckerberg is one stubborn son of a bitch. Which is odd, considering the kind of relationship he’s pursuing. But Eduardo holds his tongue because it isn’t bad and Mark is actually reasonable when things are explained.

 

Mark wants to start off with a contract for a month, Eduardo won’t do less than three. Mark wants to try out their relationship, Eduardo tells him it takes time and a month isn’t enough. He doesn’t do things halfway, so Mark, eyes sparking with something that reads very much like defiance, says, “Fine, I’ll do six.”

 

“Six weeks?” Eduardo asks, ready to argue.

 

“Six _months_.”

 

“Oh, that’s… Okay, first, that is ridiculously expensive, and I really—”

 

“I’m a billionaire, haven’t you heard?”

 

“Yes, Mark, I know but—”

 

“And we can also have an easy-out clause or something. I don’t know, I’ll have to take this to my lawyers.”

 

Which seems perfectly reasonable, so Eduardo lets Mark take the contract to draft a new one.  
   
The final contract goes on for twenty-six points. It includes what Mark continues to call the “easy-out” clause, which means, essentially, that either of them can end the agreement whenever they want (there’s a lot of lawyer-speak on that point, but Eduardo isn’t an idiot and that’s basically the gist of it). It ends with a non-disclosure agreement that is practically a copy of the first piece of paper Mark handed him on their first meeting. Something that Eduardo himself adds.  
   
“A reinforcement, if you will,” he explains.  
   
Nodding, Mark takes out a pen and signs his name on the dotted line. “You know, you’re not what I expected,” he says, putting the pen back in his pocket.

 

“What did you expect? A tough guy with a lot of muscles and tattoos?”

 

“No. I mean, I’ve seen pictures of you. You’re just… Nice? Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s more like, you never really expect doms to be, well, to show up in suits and look like Bambi.”

 

Snorting, Eduardo takes out a pen of his own to sign his own name on the papers.

 

“You think I look like Bambi?”

 

“Well, not at first. But Chris saw a photo and asked me why I wanted to hire someone who looks like a cartoon deer.”

 

Eduardo considers what Mark is saying.

 

He has to admit Christy was right.

 

Mark _is_ his type.

 

“I think I should be insulted by this,” Eduardo quips.

 

“Don’t. Chris is just… He freaks out a lot.”

 

“And who is he?”

 

“A friend.”

 

Oh.

 

Eduardo has heard of those.

 

“A friend?” he parrots.

 

“Who just got married,” Mark supplies, and Eduardo wonders if Chris has anything to do with Mark hiring him.

 

“Did he, now?”

 

“He’s not…” Mark starts, making vague gestures with his hands. “I’m not into him or anything, god, no.”

 

To Eduardo, who has been witness to a lot of misunderstandings and clusterfucks, Mark seems sincere enough when he says he’s not into his friend.

 

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

 

Giving Eduardo what must be his very special and intimidating I’m-not-an-idiot face, Mark says, “You’re thinking it.”

 

“Okay. I’m not thinking that anymore,” Eduardo replies, smiling down at the papers before turning to Mark, “Now, when would you like to start?”  
   
*  
   
Eduardo had decided to take Mark on not because he’s a billionaire or because he’s easy on the eyes – though those helped – but because Eduardo could see how much Mark thinks he needs this. To let go.  
   
When Eduardo had asked why, Mark had answered, “Because I want to feel like there’s a part of my life that I don’t have to control. A part that I can just delegate.”  
   
Eduardo had almost snorted at that. “You want to ‘just delegate’ your orgasms to someone else?” he’d repeated.  
   
“Yes.”

 

*

 

“Facebook,” Mark states, serious.

 

Eduardo, on his part, almost falls out of his chair laughing. Because Eduardo has known Mark for all of three hours and he stills finds himself thinking, _That is just so like you_. 

 

“What?” Mark asks, voice clipped.

 

Eduardo takes a few second to regain control over his body. Although, when he looks back at Mark, he knows he’s grinning stupidly. 

 

“What if you’re talking about work? How will we tell the difference.”

 

“I think I can tell the difference between my company and my safe-word.”

 

“And I thought the point is this whole agreement was so you could relinquish some control.”

 

Eduardo watches Mark open his mouth and snap it closed.

 

“Fine. What do you suggest I use then?”

 

“It’s _your_ safe-word, Mark.”

 

“I’m delegating.”

 

Eduardo considers for a moment.

 

“Okay. How about ‘valley’?” he suggests, knowing before hand Mark is going to reject that.

 

“That’s stupid. Why even?”

 

“Because Palo Alto is too long,” Eduardo starts, smiling. “And most of my toys are made of silicon.”

 

The comment makes Mark blush.

 

“Well, ‘valley’ is too common.”

 

 _It is,_ Eduardo thinks. He asks, “Then what do you want?”

 

“Marlin.”

 

“As in the fish?”

 

“Yes, as in the fish.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because when you catch a marlin, you’re catching something big.”

 

And that, that right there is the very reason Eduardo knows this is going to be one hell of a ride.

 

*

 

The first time Eduardo orders Mark to part his legs, he does so without uttering a word, but his eyes look like he might kill Eduardo if he weren’t paying for him

 

When he gets Mark on his hands and knees and forces him to say ‘sir’ every time he answers one of Eduardo’s questions, Mark holds off at first. It takes Eduardo spanking him and jerking him off only to stop just about Mark is about to come for Mark to start getting the gist of it. If he doesn’t obey, there’s no gratification.

 

“You answer ‘sir’, Mark,” Eduardo says, holding Mark’s cock in a tight grip. “Because you are mine.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Mark mutters under his breath.

 

It sounds more like Mark is an insubordinate employee than a submissive partner.

 

Two weeks after that, Mark lets go of some of his edge. Becomes less biting in his answers. But he still has the same look on his face when Eduardo gives him an order.

 

With his first sub, Eduardo learned about punishments. That they are not only sexual. 

 

Thinking that Mark could use some schooling, Eduardo says, “This Saturday, you will not go into the office. You will not open your laptop. You will not code. If there’s an emergency, you call _me_ before doing anything. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Mark’s jaw is slack. He looks more surprised than anything.

 

“Mark, do you understand me? No. Coding.”

 

Mark blinks a couple of times. When he replies, “Yes, sir,” his voice has no edge to it, and his eyes are trained on the floor.   

 

**ii.**

 

Five weeks into their contract and four days after the theater night, Eduardo wakes up in his bed and the first thing he remembers is Mark’s hunched head the day Eduardo ordered him not to code. It happens like some sort of revelation because after the last time they saw each other, Eduardo needs a plan that’s more, well, more vanilla.

 

 _Still on for tomorrow?_ Eduardo texts Mark, always confirming.

 

 _Same time, same place_ , comes Mark’s reply, a couple of minutes later.

 

*

 

Before leaving for Mark’s place, Eduardo takes his wallet, car keys and iPhone.

 

He’s driving and thinking about Mark. It’s a thirty-minute ride from his home to Mark’s, when the traffic isn’t a mess. He’s thinking about the things Mark pointedly likes. He nearly drives into the car in front of him in the process but he’s smiling because the red light makes him remember the Red Vines and Mark’s sweet tooth. 

 

On his way, he stops at a Seven Eleven to buy a roll of Mentos. 

 

Eduardo hopes Mark likes mint. But if he doesn’t, well, that’ll just be another incentive.  

 

*

 

He rings the doorbell twice to let Mark know it’s him. 

 

Mark opens the door, scanning Eduardo with his eyes.

 

Eduardo can pinpoint the exact moment Mark notices there’s no messenger bag.

 

“Today, Mark, you’re going to learn to address me properly, once and for all,” Eduardo says as he walks to Mark’s dining table. “Sit.” Once Mark is on his seat, Eduardo continues, “Do you know how many candies there are in a Mentos roll, Mark?”

 

“No.”

 

“See, that’s the thing I’m talking about. No, _sir_ , Mark. That’s what you’re supposed to say.” Eduardo can tell by the way Mark’s cheek hollows slightly that he’s biting down on his own tongue. “Today, I’ll make you understand that. The first part of our little game is as follows: For every time you forget to answer properly, I’m gonna take one little candy disk from the roll,” Eduardo explains, laying out the roll of mentos on the table. “If, by the end of tonight there’s anything left, I’ll reward you. If, on the contrary, the mentos are gone, I’ll punish you. The punishment starts as soon as they’re gone. But I’m not telling you what it is. Do you understand, Mark?”

 

“Yes, _sir_.” 

 

“Looks like you do. There are fourteen candies in this roll. I trust you’ll be able to keep track on your own. As you can see, I brought nothing with me today. No toys, no lube.” Eduardo pauses to take his wallet from his pants. “For the second part of the game, I’ll give you tasks. You’re to follow my _every_ word. If I say get on the floor and count to a hundred, you get on the floor and count to a hundred. Agreed?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Good. Your first task is to go to the convenience store and buy a bottle of lube and a package of condoms. Here’s twenty bucks and you have,” Eduardo says, looking down at his watch. “Twenty-five minutes to bring those back.”

 

Eduardo isn’t sure if he imagines it but Mark’s expression clouds briefly. The way it does when Mark’s getting excited.

 

*

 

Thirteen minutes after Mark is gone, Eduardo takes his iPhone and rings him.

 

“Are you there yet?”

 

“I’m parking,” Mark replies.

 

Eduardo waits a beat.

 

“At this rate, punishment is gonna come rather soon.”

 

Eduardo hears Mark cursing under his breath, something Eduardo can’t make out.

 

“I’m sorry, sir.”

 

“Buy the red lube,” Eduardo orders before hanging up.

 

*

 

It takes Mark exactly twenty-two minutes to get back. 

 

Eduardo is still sitting on the same chair. Hasn’t moved an inch.

 

“Strip,” he orders as soon as Mark puts his keys and the paper bag on the table.

 

“Here, sir?”

 

“Yes, here.”

 

Mark takes his sweet time getting out of his hoodie and undoing every button on his shirt. He discards his flip-flops in a second and takes five to remove his cargo shorts. Mark hesitates with the elastic band of his boxers.

 

“ _Mark_.”

 

It’s all it takes for Mark to breathe in and pull them down.

 

“Take the lube and spread it over your fingers to warm it up.”

 

Wordlessly, Mark takes the bottle of red lube out from the paper bag. Squeezing some of it on his right hand, Mark massages the liquid between his fingertips lightly.

 

“Do you think that’s enough for you, Mark? Is that the amount I normally use?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

 

Mark pours more lube before closing the lid and placing the bottle back on the table. 

 

“Prop your left leg on a chair.”

 

The chair makes a loud noise as Mark drags in out to put his foot flat against the cushion.

 

“Finger yourself. Start with your index finger.”

 

Eduardo feels a shudder run down his spine as he watches Mark’s finger disappear into his asshole.

 

“Add a second one and spread yourself open.”

 

Mark pants as he scissors himself. Stops for a few seconds before he resumes the task at and.

 

“Now, a third.”

 

This time, Mark moans low in his throat. He adjusts his position, shifting a bit to left before fingering himself with three fingers.

 

Mark’s fingers are ridiculously long.

 

“Do you like this, Mark?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Eduardo smirks.

 

“And there goes the second candy,” he announces, taking one small disk out of the wrapper.

 

Eduardo puts it in a bowl next to the first one. 

 

*

 

“I think you should read the paper, Mark. It’ll be good for you, to be aware of your surroundings.”

 

“That’s what the internet is for.”

 

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

 

“Sorry, sir.”

 

Eduardo doesn’t allow himself to smile, even though he feels alight when Mark doesn’t forget the ‘sir’ this time around. 

 

“Stand up and place your hands flat on the table.”

 

The chair makes a loud noise when Mark does as he’s told. Setting down the paper he’d picked up, Eduardo lays it out between Mark’s hands. Walking to stand at Mark’s side, Eduardo bends Mark’s elbows so that his forearm is also flat on the dinner table.

 

“Read.”

 

“Yesterday, the rioters—” 

 

Eduardo spanks Mark.

 

“Read the headlines first.”

 

Mark starts again, clearing his throat. 

 

Eduardo spanks him again.

 

He spanks Mark five times. Then two more.

 

When Mark stops, Eduardo spanks him harder.

 

When Mark curses, Eduardo slaps his ass with everything he’s got.

 

Eduardo spanks Mark until Mark says, “Can I turn the page, sir?”

 

“You may.”

 

*

 

Eduardo has a writhing Mark bent over the table. There are now three little candies on the bowl.

 

“You don’t deserve to come, Mark. You haven’t learned your lesson, yet,” Eduardo says into Mark’s ear as he grips Mark’s cock tightly. 

 

Stepping away, Eduardo takes a napkin from the center of the table to wipe his hand.

 

“Put on your pants and wash your hands. You’re doing the dishes next.”

 

“What the—” Mark begins but stops when Eduardo twirls the roll of Mentos in his hand.

 

As Mark makes his way to the bathroom, Eduardo walks to the living room where he finds the morning paper, untouched, on one of the couches.

 

“Why do you subscribe to things you never read?” Eduardo asks.

 

“I didn’t. My assistant did it for me. To keep me informed or something,” Mark replies, shrugging.

 

Eduardo pulls up a chair and sits in front of Mark and the sink.

 

“I wonder, should I count that as three separate mentos or just one, Mark?”

 

“I… _shit_. I’m sorry, sir.”

 

“Two it is, then.”

 

*

 

After the dishes, Eduardo orders Mark to make his own bed, giving him precise instructions. This blanket instead of that one. Three pillows, not four.

 

Smoothing the covers, Mark looks up to Eduardo.

 

“You know, sir, I do have a maid who does this for me.”

 

“I don’t see her around, do you?”

 

“Wednesdays are her days off, sir.”

 

“You don’t say.”

 

*

 

“You stink, Mark. How long has it been since you’ve taken a shower?”

 

“Two days, sir.”

 

“You’re taking one now.”

 

*

 

Leaning against the white tiles of Mark’s gigantic bathroom, Eduardo watches Mark get rid of his clothes before stepping inside the shower.

 

Eduardo pushes off the wall. 

 

He walks towards Mark and reaches for shower handle. Turning it a bit to the left, Eduardo pulls it.

 

Startled, Mark jumps back.

 

They wait in silence while the water warms. When Eduardo puts his hand under the water and finds it to be adequate, he orders Mark under the shower.

 

“Run your hands through your hair,” Eduardo commands as he goes back to lean on the wall opposite to Mark.

 

“Use some shampoo. Take the shower gel and rub it on your body. Your arms first. Then your chest and legs. Rub it on your ass. Wipe yourself clean, Mark.”

 

The little drops of water keep Eduardo from seeing just what exactly Mark is doing. But he sees enough.

 

“Rub the gel over your dick, nice and slow.”

 

Mark’s hands grab his own cock in a position that looks more like Mark jerking off than Mark taking a shower.

 

“I didn’t say you could masturbate, Mark.”

 

Mark’s shoulders slumps but he still stops on Eduardo’s orders.

 

“Clean your ass some more. Coat your fingers with gel and put them inside.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Press them deeper in.”

 

Mark groans.

 

“Faster, Mark.”

 

“ _Sir_ ,” Mark half pleads, half grunts.

 

“Go on. Don’t stop until I say you can.”

 

Mark fingers himself, his arm moving a fraction faster with each thrust.

 

“How does it feel, Mark? How do you like your fingers inside you?”

 

“Very, _ah_ , very much so.” A beat. “Sir.”

 

“When you touch yourself, do you do this? Do you mess with your asshole like this?”

 

“ _Sometimes,_ sir,” Mark whines out in one rushed breath.

 

“And what do you think about?”

 

“Your fingers, sir. Your fingers moving and, _ah aahh_ , brushing, _ngh_ up against my prostate, sir. Your, _uh_ , hand on my cock.”

 

“And how does your cock look when you’re doing this?”

 

“Red, sir, very red.”

 

“What else, Mark, I know that’s not all.”

 

“I think—” Mark inhales. “I think about your voice, sir.”

 

“What about my voice?”

 

“How, _ngh_ , how low it gets when you’re.” A pause. “When you’re making me come, sir.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes, _ah aahh aaahhh_ , sir. Can I come? Please let me come, sir,” Mark begs.

 

“No.”

 

“Sir, please.”

 

“I said no, Mark.”

 

“But… _sir_.”

 

“Wash the gel off and step out of the shower.”

 

“ _Sir_.”

 

“ _Mark_.”

 

*

 

Before they both know it, it’s ten.

 

There are nine candies in the bowl, Eduardo has eaten two and fed Mark one. There are two left in the roll.

 

“Looks like you made it, Mark,” Eduardo says.

 

They’re upstairs on Mark’s bed, Mark lying naked and Eduardo fully clothed except for his jacket and shoes.

 

“See, Mark, when you behave like a nice little kitten, you get a reward,” Eduardo whispers against Mark’s skin, licking his way from Mark’s torso down to his hipbone.

 

Prying apart Mark’s legs, Eduardo places them over his shoulder. He nuzzles his nose in Mark’s pubic hair, listening to Mark’s erratic breathing. Mark grunts and shudders when Eduardo bites down on his inner thigh but lets out a high-pitched scream when Eduardo licks his balls.

 

Eduardo traces his tongue down. He licks Mark’s skin like he would ice cream, with his tongue flat, taking in as much as he can. 

 

Maneuvering a hand on Mark’s erection, Eduardo circles the head. He plays with the pre-come as he sucks bruises on Mark’s inner thigh.

 

“ _Fuck_.” Mark moans. “Sir.”

 

Smiling against Mark’s dick, Eduardo traces a long line from the base to the tip with tongue before bobbing his head up and down.

 

Eduardo has been told he gives _excellent_ head.

 

But he and Mark already know that.

 

So Eduardo kisses Mark’s shaft. From the tip to the base. He kisses his way down Mark’s balls before licking the small place just before Mark’s asshole. 

 

“Get on your hands and knees,” Eduardo orders, releasing Mark’s legs.

 

Mark starts on his hands and knees but as soon as Eduardo starts placing kisses and licking the area surrounding his asshole, Mark moans and drops his head to the pillows, holding himself up with his forearms.

 

The new position gives Eduardo a better angle, and he does not hesitate to cover Mark’s entrance with his lips.

 

Mark shudders.

 

Mark’s skin still smells like the shower gel. Some tropical fruit that makes for a striking contrast on Mark. 

 

Breathing in, Eduardo put his tongue in place. He dips slowly in.

 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Mark screams but the pillows muffle a lot of the noise. 

 

Eduardo takes this as an encouragement to continue.

 

Moving his tongue a bit, Eduardo feels Mark clench.

 

“Fuck,” Mark breathes out. “Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck me, sir.”

 

The next minute is full of a litany of smacking sounds and the long string of Mark’s _yesyesyes_. 

 

And then, then Eduardo removes his tongue, replacing it with a finger. Eduardo moves it around until Mark yelps. Then he presses down, hard. Grabbing Mark’s erection with his other hand, Eduardo creates an odd rhythm of thrusting and pressing that makes Mark’s legs tremble.

 

Kissing Mark’s skin, Eduardo murmurs, “You can come, Mark.”

 

Two seconds after, Eduardo feels the dampness of Mark’s semen coating his fingers. 

 

Eduardo himself doesn’t realize how hard he actually is until Mark is whispering a _thank you_ at him. 

 

*

 

The first time Eduardo fucks his first sub, he’s so nervous, his hands won’t stop shaking.

 

Eduardo is afraid to fuck it up.

 

He’s afraid of not doing it right, of being too transparent in his actions.

 

But mostly, Eduardo is afraid of feeling too much. Of not being able to separate his client from someone Eduardo would call a boyfriend.

 

Because whatever contracts he has signed, whatever rules he’s agreed to play by, Eduardo has never been able to keep himself from caring. 

 

The first time Eduardo fucks someone as a dom, he makes sure his client is on his hands and knees and never, not once, does Eduardo say a word.

 

Eduardo tells himself that this is fucking because he’s getting paid to do so. It is fucking because this is just a game. Because caring is just pretense. 

 

The first time is the hardest because Eduardo hasn’t learnt where to draw the next line. But he’s a damned good student and the second time is better.

 

By the third time, Eduardo knows where that line is. He knows how to get there.

 

*

 

Mark has got to be one of the most stubborn people to have ever lived. Seriously.

 

“Look at the wall,” Eduardo orders.

 

Mark raises his head and complies.

 

However, once Eduardo is out of his sight, Mark turns his head.

 

Eduardo, who isn’t all that surprised, repeats, “Eyes on the wall, Mark.”

 

Eduardo stares at Mark for a moment before turning on his heel. He crosses the living room to where he left his bag and starts sorting through the toys. A pair of wide, black leather handcuffs, lube, floggers, a crop, paddles, ropes, butt plugs, the whole deal. Eduardo knows he won’t use much. Not tonight. No, tonight is just for Mark to see. 

 

Taking the handcuffs with him, Eduardo walks back to where Mark is.

 

He stands behind Mark and grabs his arms. 

 

“What are you—” Mark starts, craning his head to the side.

 

Eduardo tisks. With a hand on Mark’s chin, he pushes Mark’s head away from him.

 

“Eyes on the wall, Mark.” 

 

Mark’s body tenses up. His arms are pressed close to his body, shoulders squared and muscles tight. 

 

He holds the handcuffs with one hand but with his other Eduardo traces the line of Mark’s right shoulder. He rubs gently, eases his way down Mark’s arm. At Mark’s elbow, Eduardo stops to pry it apart from Mark’s torso. He then takes Mark’s hand, tracing his knuckles, one by one.

 

The line of Mark’s body relaxes slowly into Eduardo’s touch. He lets go a little.

 

Eduardo waits until Mark exhales loudly to continue with his plans.

 

Carefully, Eduardo slips one cuff on Mark’s left wrist. 

 

“Tell me if they’re too tight,” he says as he slips on the other one.

 

Again, Mark turns his head to Eduardo.

 

This time, Eduardo smiles at him.

 

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

 

Mark eyes him, bites his lip and finally answers.

 

“No.” He stares at Eduardo, as though waiting for him to say something. “How could you tell?”

 

“I keep repeating myself because you can’t follow orders,” Eduardo explains. “Now, Mark, because it’s your first time, I’ll let this go. But if you don’t keep your eyes on the wall, I _will_ punish you next time we see each other.”

 

Narrowing his at him, Mark looks like he’s about to protest. Eduardo raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Mark,” is all he says.

 

Mark trains his eyes on the wall.

 

“Tonight, I’m gonna show you my toys,” Eduardo announces.

 

He brings his bag to Mark’s feet.

 

“I’ll start with my favorites,” he says and takes out a silicon, vibrating butt plug.

 

*

 

Being a dom is like playing a game. Well, not really, but that’s how Eduardo sees it. You play the game because you want to. There are rules because games always have them. You play the game and follow the rules because you have agreed to them and find some pleasure in them. The ultimate goal, the ultimate win, is always gratification. 

 

But at the end of the day, it’s a game. It’s just pretense. It’s telling someone they can’t come because they have “misbehaved” even though they certainly could climax. But then they wouldn’t be playing. 

 

Being a dom is about playing the game.

 

And before Mark, playing the game always meant pretending.

 

But when Eduardo lowers his voice to whisper in Mark’s ear, when Eduardo asks Mark if he wants to come, a shiver runs down his spine. 

 

A shiver that has nothing to do with pretending.

 

*

 

“Get on your knees and put your hands behind your back. Don’t move. Don’t speak.”

 

When Mark complies, Eduardo walks behind him and handcuffs his wrists before taking a blindfold from his pocket and putting the cloth over Mark’s eyes.

 

They’re in Mark’s kitchen, where Eduardo feels the most comfortable about making a mess. Mark decided to be naked from the waist up after Eduardo had given him a choice of what to keep on, even though Eduardo had also told him tonight will be messy.

 

“If you move, I’m going to hit you but I won’t tell you what I’ll use,” Eduardo says from behind Mark. “If you speak, I’m going to gag you. You can make sounds, though. Nod if you understand.”

 

For a moment, Eduardo half-expects Mark to shake his head. Eventually, however, Mark nods.

 

It’s all Eduardo needs to bring close his bag and kneel, taking things out. He begins a tube of blue edible paint that Eduardo squirts on Mark’s right shoulder. Mark flinches, doing a weird sort of gasp that sounds like an aborted “what”.

 

“Remember the rules, Mark.”

 

Nodding, Mark does a better job at keeping still as Eduardo traces long blue lines across his shoulder and down his arms. Eduardo is not about to pretend he’s an artist. He does lazy loops and random dots. Yet, despite Eduardo’s lack of artistic talent, the paint manages to look striking on Mark skin. He wouldn’t use the word beautiful. It’s more… engaging. 

 

Eduardo puts down the tube to grab a can of whipped cream. He shakes the can before spraying Mark’s nipple with it. The spray echoes almost painfully loud in Eduardo’s ears. He’d wonder if Mark is thinking the same but then Eduardo catches Mark smiling. Almost smirking. Bastard.

 

Next, Eduardo drizzles chocolate sauce right over Mark’s collar bone, mixing it with the whipped cream. Eduardo leaves the bottle on the floor so he can use both hands to scratch Mark’s chest. Eduardo digs in his fingers, scratching until the red takes a while to fade from Mark’s skin. It makes Mark stifle a moan, low in his throat. 

 

Smiling to himself, Eduardo moves to open a bag of rainbow sprinkles, the round variety ones. With a handful, he brushes them over Mark’s nipple until the colors start melting into each other and Mark is breathing heavily. 

 

When Mark is all but panting and slightly leaning into his touch, Eduardo removes his hand to move onto the following item. Taking out a liter of strawberry yoghurt, Eduardo removes the lid as he stands to be facing Mark’s back. He drags his bag with him as he kneels down on the floor again. The yoghurt is still cold from Eduardo’s fridge. Pouring a bit over Mark’s clean shoulder, Eduardo watches it travel down Mark’s back. Mark’s spine straightens and his fists clench as the cold yoghurt makes it’s way down to the line of his shorts. He seems to get used to it but then Eduardo is pouring down more yoghurt, and this time, Mark makes a move to shift away.

 

“I told you it was going to be messy, Mark,” Eduardo says, amused.

 

He pours slowly the whole liter on Mark, watches Mark squirm as the cold liquid makes its way into Mark’s shorts. Eduardo imagines the curve of Mark’s naked ass sticky with strawberry yoghurt and has to swallow down the urge to get Mark naked.

 

Instead, Eduardo places both hands on Mark, rubbing circles with the yoghurt over his shoulders and the back of his neck. He feels Mark slowly relaxing into his hands while Eduardo varies the pressure and works on some of the knots in Mark’s back. The yoghurt is very warm when Eduardo drops his hands to lick Mark. He licks the base of Mark’s neck and his upper back, across his shoulders and over the line of his spine, stopping only when Mark lets out a guttural groan.

 

Eduardo chuckles a little as he wipes his mouth.

 

“I’m going to take off the handcuffs. Then, you’re going to take off your pants and underwear and lie flat on your stomach,” Eduardo orders while he takes off the leather handcuffs. 

 

Just as Mark gets on his stomach, Eduardo stands up to wet a towel. With the towel in hand, he wipes down Mark’s back, his ass and his upper thighs. He’s not doing a very thorough job but that’s only because he’s going to squirt oil over Mark’s shoulders next. Eduardo himself had gotten down to his boxers before they started so he doesn’t particularly mind the sticky mess.

 

Eduardo rubs gently, not exactly expertly but not like an amateur, either. He’s had some practice and he can work out the knots in Mark’s back with some degree of professionalism. Mark twitches slightly under his touch but doesn’t move otherwise. Eduardo works on Mark’s back for over half an hour, rubbing and pressing down to relax every muscle long after Mark has stopped twitching because he has somehow managed to fall asleep. On the floor.

 

Sometimes, Eduardo worries about Mark’s habits. Because, honestly, who on earth falls asleep on cold tiles?

 

After a while, the massage becomes more like Eduardo absent-mindedly tracing patterns on Mark’s skin. Which is fine, because Eduardo is more than happy to let Mark sleep.

 

Eventually, though, Eduardo kisses Mark’s shoulder, shaking him lightly. Mark squeezes his eyes tight before opening them and blinking a couple of times at Eduardo’s face.

 

“You can speak,” Eduardo says, in case Mark is sufficiently aware of his surroundings to remember their game. “Come on, you’ll get sick like this.”

 

Eduardo helps Mark into a seating position while Mark blinks and rubs at his eyes.

 

“How long was I out for?” Mark asks around a yawn.

 

“Forty minutes, maybe.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Yeah. It’s already getting late.”

 

Nodding, Mark stands up to look for his discarded t-shirt. He’s throwing it on, and Eduardo thinks he will actually keep on without taking a shower. Which, gross.

 

“Mark,” Eduardo starts, pulling on his pants. “Take a shower, get into bed and sleep. Don’t code tonight.”

 

Tilting his head, Mark considers Eduardo’s orders but whatever he’s about to say is cut-off by another yawn. Eduardo thinks Mark wants to look upset but he might be too sleepy to conjure up the effort.

 

“See you next week?”

 

Mark answers, “Sure.”

 

*

 

Eduardo doesn’t usually call. Mark never actually calls. They text to arrange meetings, because it’s easier, clean and simple. Eduardo has been doing this long enough to know how awkward phone conversations can get. So. They text. 

 

Except Eduardo is not in the mood to text right now. Plus, it’s not like this is something he wants to have in writing. Scrolling down on his phone, Eduardo finds Mark’s number. Inhaling, he hits call and waits.

 

“If this is about the whales thing, I already told you I’m not going so fuck off,” Mark answers.

 

“Uh, okay?”

 

“You’re not Dustin,” Mark deadpans before the line goes quiet.

 

Eduardo imagines Mark frowning, taking a moment to look at the screen on his phone.

 

“Sorry about that,” Mark eventually says. “I wasn’t expecting a call from you. Although, to be honest, I never expect a call from you.”

 

“So, you’re busy, I take it?”

 

“I’m at work.”

 

“It’s seven pm, Mark.”

 

“I have a clock. Your point?”

 

Eduardo rolls his eyes. If he didn’t think it would be crossing a line, Eduardo would definitely tell Mark to wrap it up and go home. How is he even alive?

 

“I need you to do me a favor for our next meeting,” Eduardo says instead.

 

“What kind of favor?”

 

Eduardo smirks before he drops the bomb.

 

“Don’t touch yourself until we see each other again.”

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

“I’m pretty sure you heard me.”

 

“That’s. You do know our next meeting isn’t until six days from now?”

 

“I do. I have it marked on my calendar in bright pink. I even drew little hearts around the words. It looks very third-grade.”

 

At this, Mark snorts into the line, and Eduardo pictures his dimples before he feels himself smiling.

 

“I’m sure you’re making some underpaid homeroom teacher proud.” A pause. “Is there any particular reason for me to do this. Other than, you know, it’s your command.”

 

“I have a plan.”

 

“You always have a plan.”

 

“You wouldn’t pay me the exorbitant amounts of money you do if I didn’t.”

 

“They do say you’re the best.”

 

“Then you’d better trust my judgment.”

 

“And if I cheat?”

 

“That’s really up to you. I’m not the one who hired me. You know what you want, don’t you?”

 

“Huh.”

 

“Can you do it, then?”

 

“Asshole.”

 

“I think I should punish you for that.”

 

“Maybe I want you to.”

 

“I’ll sleep on it. I do have _six long days_ to decide.”

 

“This is unfair. I feel like I should be getting something in exchange.”

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah, okay. Fine, fine. I gotta work.”

 

“Behave, Mark.”

 

*

 

Three days later, Eduardo gets a text from Mark.

 

_This is retarded._

 

_Have you never heard of delayed gratification?_

__

The reply comes within seconds.

 

_I think you’ve made me an expert at it._

__

_Then you should be able to be patient._

__

_Patience is for people who have time._

__

_If you make it, I’ll blow you_.

 

*

 

“This is… _ngh_. Cheating.”

 

“It’s one thing for you to be cheeky on the phone, Mark,” Eduardo says, bent over Mark. “But when we’re actually together, I do expect you to behave.” He squeezes Mark’s dick hard, too hard.

 

“ _Sir_ ,” Mark amends, breathlessly.

 

“And I never specified when so, technically speaking, I’m not cheating.”

 

Eduardo continues to palm Mark’s cock through his boxers while Mark writhes under him. Mark is not very good at keeping still so Eduardo has his own legs at each side of Mark’s, in an effort to keep him from moving. An effort that is very rapidly backfiring because Mark manages to wiggle his ass, somehow, and Eduardo is feeling himself getting hard every time Mark’s ass moves up into his groin. 

 

Eduardo is this close to suspecting Mark is doing it on purpose.

 

“Did you really wait?” he asks, to distract them both.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Even though you were ready to break halfway through?”

 

“Ye— oh, _god_ … I waited. Jesus, _yes_.”

 

“You’re so loud, Mark.”

 

“I live alone.”

 

“A bonus, surely.”

 

“Indeed. Fuck, fuck,” Mark mutters under his breath. Then, “Can I?”

 

And if he wasn’t hard before, Eduardo’s definitely hard now.

 

“But I promised I’d blow you,” Eduardo says, sneaking his hand inside Mark’s boxers and brushing his thumb over the head of his cock. “Are you really telling me you’d rather come like this?”

 

“I… _Fuck._ I just-oh, shit.”

 

“Was that a yes or a no?”

 

“I… I _want_ to come. Please. Fuck, _please_. Sir.”

 

“I do love it when you beg. And I did promise.” With that, Eduardo pushes away from Mark. “Turn over,” he orders.

 

Mark takes a moment to collect himself before he gets on his back, knees bent and spread wide. 

 

Eduardo grabs a hold of Mark’s thighs, takes off his boxers and blows him. He’s very good at this, has been very good for a while. Mark’s legs quiver as he moans. Eduardo tells Mark he can come. It happens very quickly; Mark doesn’t really have the strength to resist any longer. He comes on Eduardo’s tongue, and Eduardo swallows, wiping his mouth with his hand when they’re done. 

 

Mark is smiling at Eduardo when he moves up to rest his head on a pillow.

 

“I think you should get _me_ off, now,” Eduardo remarks.

 

**iii.**

 

Sometimes, Eduardo likes to play a game. ‘If you could…’ 

 

‘If you could say anything, what would it be?’

 

‘If you could touch me anywhere, where would you?’

 

‘If you could call me whatever you wanted, how would you?’

 

‘If you could fuck me, how would you do it?’

 

‘If you could do anything…’

 

It’s a game that exists mostly in his head because when he takes a guy home and whispers, ‘If you could…’ they never really understand the implication. They don’t get that Eduardo could choose not to let them. That this is Eduardo’s choice. 

 

It’s a game that exists mostly in Eduardo’s head.

 

Until the day Eduardo plays with Arthur.

 

“If you could kiss me,” Eduardo starts, undoing Arthur’s tie. “If you could kiss me _anywhere_ , where would you?”

 

“Anywhere, master?”

 

“Yes, anywhere, Arthur.”

 

Taking a step toward Eduardo, Arthur places his index finger on Eduardo’s neck, right where he can feel Eduardo’s pulse.

 

“Here,” Arthur answers. “If I could kiss you anywhere, master, I’d kiss you here.”

 

Eduardo feels his pulse race under Arthur’s finger, feels something wash over him.

 

He swallows.

 

“And how badly do you want to?” Eduardo demands next. “What would you do to kiss me there?”

 

“Whatever you ordered me to.”

 

And just like that, the game stops being in Eduardo’s head.

 

*

 

The week of Mark’s birthday, Eduardo calls him.

 

“I have a present for you,” he says into the receiver.

 

“You do?”

 

“Yes, for your birthday.”

 

“Huh.” A pause. “Is it something I can open in public?”

 

Eduardo stares down at the box he has in his hands.

 

No, definitely not.

 

“That depends,” Eduardo says instead.

 

“On what?”

 

“On how much you want people to know that you like it rough and kinky and fast.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Mark breathes. “You know I’m at work right now, right?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“And you still call me to say these things.”

 

“Is this your way of saying you’d like me to call to ask about your day?”

 

“What?”

 

“How’s everything at work, darling?” Eduardo starts in mock affection. “When are you coming home? Is there anything you’d like for dinner?”

 

“Are partners really this nagging?”

 

“Some might be.”

 

“And you?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“I think you want to call me to ask about my day.”

 

“I do,” Eduardo says honestly. But because he’s feeling like he’s crossing too many lines these days, he adds, “I want to ask how your day is going after you get my present.”

 

“So that’s a ‘no, do not open in public’.”

 

“I wouldn’t.”

 

“Are you implying that I would?”

 

“You’re one bold man, Mark.”

 

“Yes, I am oh so deranged.”

 

“You say it like it’s a joke but I bet you’re hard right now.”

 

“Is this your attempt at phone sex? ‘Cause I thought that started with casual conversation about your underwear.”

 

Eduardo laughs long and hard before calming down and answering, “None.”

 

“None what?”

 

“Underwear. I’m wearing none.”

 

Mark inhales deeply over the phone.

 

“Where _are_ you?”

 

“Where do you want me to be?”

 

“Is that the kind of shit you pull on your clients?” Mark asks in a tone that is not mean. In a tone that Eduardo has come to understand as teasing.

 

“Yes. That and ‘baby, your cock is so hard and big inside me. It’s gonna make me come so hard. Fuck, fuck, yeah, just like that, big boy.’”

 

Eduardo chuckles when he’s done imitating bad porn.

 

He stops and realizes that Mark is making no sound on the other end of the line.

 

“Mark?”

 

“I… Jesus, do you really have to say that over the phone?”

 

“Yes, I do. I would die if I didn’t.”

 

“You’re a lousy liar.”

 

“I am,” Eduardo admits, not thinking twice about it. “Hey, Mark, got any plans for the weekend?”

 

“Are you asking me out?” Eduardo hesitates and Mark adds, “Or are you trying to get me to ask you out? I thought you were a sure thing.”

 

“Quoting Pretty Woman is overrated, Mr Zuckerberg.”

 

“Is it, now?”

 

“It is.”

 

“Well, what is it, then?”

 

Eduardo could ask what’s what and let the conversation drop in the confusion. 

 

He could.

 

But he doesn’t.

 

“I thought I could take you out. For your birthday.”

 

“Do you always do this?”

 

No.

 

“Sometimes.”

 

“Sometimes?”

 

“I’m not always with someone on their birthday.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“You can say no, you know.”

 

“Can you do Saturday?”

 

“I can.”

 

“Pick me up?”

 

“Yes, princess.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“We’ll see about that.”

 

“Jesus.”

 

“It’s Eduardo, actually.”

 

“I know what your name is, Mr Saverin.”

 

“Thank goodness, you had me worried, there.”

 

“Ha-ha.”

 

He hangs up the phone, a very wide grin splitting his face.

 

*

 

Eduardo shows up on Mark’s doorstep at seven sharp.

 

“You’re not ready,” is the first thing he says when Mark opens the door in his flip-flops. When Mark opens his mouth, Eduardo shakes his head. “I’m not taking you anywhere dressed like that.”

 

“But—”

 

“Don’t argue with me, Mark. Get changed.”

 

Turning on his heels, Mark goes upstairs. Eduardo waits for him in the living room. He should’ve known Mark wouldn’t dress properly. Really. Why is he even surprised?

 

Mark comes down a few minutes after saying something about how he should be allowed to dress however he likes on his birthday but Eduardo isn’t listening because apparently Mark owns a pair of black pants that hang low on his hips and a shirt that actually looks ironed that makes him look… Eduardo finds Mark pleasant, whatever he’s wearing. But seeing Mark in black slacks — it takes his breath away because it reminds him how long Mark’s legs are, how easy to bend and stretch.

 

“I’m not changing again,” Mark announces when Eduardo fails to speak.

 

“Really?” Eduardo asks just to be difficult.

 

There’s no way he’s making Mark change.

 

“It’s not like we have time, anyway,” Eduardo says next, looking at his watch. “We’re gonna be late, Mark.”

 

Mark rolls his eyes but follows Eduardo outside and into his car.

 

*

 

They’re in the middle of some complicated paella when Mark finally caves in.

 

“Okay, Saverin, my present,” he says, putting out a hand.

 

“Aren’t you greedy?” Eduardo shoots back, keeping his hands on the cutlery.

 

“You’ve been saying my present this, my present that all night. And then, you _called_ me to inform me that you have purchased a gift for my birthday. Now I want to know what it is.”

 

“You won’t even wait until desert.”

 

“It’s not my fault if you keep dropping comments about it.”

 

“I was merely stating that I hoped you enjoy it.” 

 

“You know, you don’t fool me.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Eduardo agrees. 

 

Taking out a small, gift-wrapped box from his back, Eduardo hands Mark the much anticipated present.

 

“You can have it. But,” he starts. “You can’t open it until your actual birthday.”

 

“But that’s on Monday!”

 

“Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?”

 

“This is unfair.”

 

“You said you wanted your present. And I’m giving it to you. Gladly.”

 

“Yeah, but what’s the point if I can’t know what it is?”

 

“Just be patient, Mark. And also, I think you better be well-rested for it, too.”

 

Mark takes a moment to frown as he shakes the box. “What d’you mean?” 

 

“I mean, don’t stay up coding on Sunday. It’ll drain the energy out of you.”

 

Mark gulps.

 

“I think I can do with a bit more wine, how about you?” Eduardo suggests but he’s already calling the waiter over.

 

Just as the waiter starts making his way to their table, Eduardo drops his voice to whisper, “Call me before you open it. I need to give you some instructions.”

 

*

 

Eduardo is woken up on Monday at seven by his ringing phone.

 

“Okay, I’m opening it,” Mark says on the other end of the line.

 

Eduardo chuckles.

 

“Happy birthday, Mark.”

 

He hears the rustle of paper on the background and a small gasp coming from Mark that makes Eduardo smirk.

 

“Well, I think it’s a good idea I didn’t take this to the office.”

 

“Oh, Mark, but you _are_ taking it to your office.”

 

“I’m not gonna walk inside my own office with a pair of anal beads in hand.”

 

“First of all, those are not anal beads. And second, you’re right. You’re not going to walk with them in your hands.”

 

Eduardo gives Mark a moment to let the full meaning of his words sink in.

 

“What are they?”

 

“Ben Wa balls.”

 

“That… means absolutely nothing to me.”

 

“It’ll mean something to you in a while, then.”

 

“I can’t believe you gave me these.”

 

“You can always use your safe-word, Mark,” Eduardo points out seriously.

 

“No, it’s… It’s fine. So, um, you said you had some, err, instructions?”

 

“Oh, those! Right. Clean yourself first. Then clean the toy. Use a lot of lube, Mark. Really, most of my toys aren’t this wide and there isn’t much of a progression. Then, put them inside you. You have to leave them in for the rest of the day. Call me when you’re back home, again.”

 

“That’s it? You made it sound like you had a lot to say about this.”

 

“Do you want me to walk you through it, Mark? Because I can do that. Oh, and I forgot. _Don’t_ come.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Mark.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Sorry, what?” Eduardo asks, just to piss Mark off.

 

“Sorry, _sir_.”

 

“That’s a good boy. Call me if you have any questions. Have a nice day, Mark.”

 

Eduardo ends the call before Mark can say anything else. 

 

He pictures Mark holding the balls, cleaning himself and then spreading lube over his ass. Eduardo’s already half-hard from his conversation with Mark and imagining him pushing each ball in, carefully, it makes Eduardo hard inside his boxers. 

 

With his hand inside his pajama pants, Eduardo touches his dick. He imagines Mark using the toy on his own, imagines the noises he’d make. He’s quickly hard and trying to remember the sounds Mark makes. The way his face twists when he wants to come. Eduardo has memorized Mark’s expression when he pleads. When he mutters breathlessly _please_ and _sir_. The Mark in his head is saying ‘ _please, can I_?’ over and again until Eduardo comes with a few strokes.

 

*

 

It’s around eleven when Mark calls him.

 

“Just what the _hell_ are these?” he asks, a little short of breath.

 

“Have you been running, Mark?”

 

“Have I been— Have I been _running_? Of course I haven’t been running. I’ve been wearing your _present_ ,” Mark replies in a tight voice. “Oh, fuck.”

 

“Is it uncomfortable?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then what’s the problem?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“I think you shouldn’t be talking to me like that.”

 

Mark swallows loudly. 

 

“Now, Mark, if this is too much…” Eduardo lets his voice trail off.

 

“No. Sorry.” Then, “Sir.”

 

“Good.”

 

“What… What are these?”

 

“Don’t you like them?”

 

“I… They _vibrate_.”

 

“Yes, well, Ben Wa balls are weighted. When you move, they move inside you. And that generates vibrations. They’re normally used for pelvic therapy with women but they’re also suitable for anal stimulation. Don’t you think? I mean, they just _tease_.”

 

This time Mark snorts. “So, that’s the idea. To be a tease during my work?”

 

“Yeah. A full, eight-hour tease. Oh, wait. You don’t work eight hours, do you?”

 

“That’s… Are you doing this to _punish_ me?”

 

“No, I’m doing this to tease you. If I wanted to punish you, I’d use other things. Although, it’s not my fault you stay at your office past midnight. Call me when you get home, Mark.”

 

“But—”

 

“No buts. You know the rules.”

 

*

 

The next call to Eduardo’s cell comes at a quarter to six.

 

“I’m inside my house,” Mark announces, and Eduardo has to admit he’s more or less impressed. “Also, apparently Dustin invited himself to Chris’ home and I have to be there at seven.”

 

“Aw, Mark, your friends are throwing you a surprise birthday party!” 

 

“I… Whatever. I’m home,” Mark repeats. 

 

“Yes, you said that. Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

 

Eduardo hears Mark’s groan over the phone with a little bit of perverse delight.

 

“I have your _balls_ inside me.”

 

“Really? Well, that’s odd since mine seem to still be attached to me and you’re nowhere to be seen.” 

 

“What? Not your dick, asshole—”

 

“Watch it.”

 

“ _Sorry_.”

 

“And I know what you mean.”

 

“So?”

 

“Okay, Mark. Want me to talk you through it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes, what?”

 

“Yes, _sir_.”

 

*

 

Eduardo likes playing the game, the ‘what if you could…’ game. He likes to give back, after all. Even if, technically, he’s still the one in control, doing this, _asking_ , is giving some of it up. 

 

But he only does it as a reward. 

 

Eduardo reserves the game for special moments. For times when he knows it is needed.

 

So when Eduardo asks Mark, it’s because his heart feels swollen and heavy with all the pride that Eduardo has for Mark. It’s because he’s just seen Mark make an appearance on Oprah and Eduardo knows enough about Mark to realize how much that took. 

 

It makes Eduardo want to reward him.

 

So he does.

 

*

 

“If you could say anything, what would it be, Mark?”

 

“Is that a trick question, sir?”

 

“No.”

 

“What the fuck is going on.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You said, if I could say anything. Well, I’d say, ‘what the fuck is going on’.”

 

Snorting, Eduardo shakes his head.

 

“Not, ‘you look nice’ or ‘let’s fuck’ or, simply, ‘Eduardo’? No, what you choose is ‘what the fuck is going on’?”

 

“Yes. Why, is it disappointing, sir?”

 

“No, I guess not.”

 

Eduardo runs his fingers up and down Mark’s arm. 

 

“If I said you could kiss me anywhere, where would you?”

 

“Your mouth.”

 

“And if you could call me anything you wanted, what would my name be?”

 

“Wardo.”

 

“Wardo?” Eduardo parrots.

 

Mark shrugs.

 

“Or Eduardo, if you preferred that.”

 

“Why Wardo?”

 

“Because,” Mark starts, but he stops himself. Eduardo can see the blush that creeps up to his ears. “Because Eduardo is too long.”

 

At this, Eduardo smirks, knowing just what Mark means. 

 

“Too long for what, Mark?” he presses.

 

“To say.”

 

“Really? Say my name.”

 

“Eduardo.”

 

“And that took what, two seconds? _That_ is too long?”

 

Mark turns his face away from Eduardo.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Mark, two seconds is nothing.”

 

“There are battles that are defined by less than that. And games. Have you ever seen any Olympic Games? Like, swimmers and shit, the second place is not even a whole second apart from the first.” Mark adds as an afterthought, “Sir.”

 

“Yes, but you’re not swimming,” Eduardo points out.

 

Mark bites his lip.

 

“You won’t say Eduardo because it’s too long. I guess it’s not like saying Mark. That’s so easy. So simple to cry out,” Eduardo states, his eyes glued to Mark’s turned face. “Is that why you’d call me Wardo? Because it’s easier to cry out?” When Mark nods, Eduardo smiles. “And do you call me that? When I can’t hear you? Look at me, Mark.”

 

Mark turns to stare at Eduardo, straight into his eyes.

 

“Yes.”

 

“So, to recap, if you could call me anything, you’d call me Wardo because that is the name you cry out when I can’t hear you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Would you call me that, right now, if I said you could?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And what would you do to earn that right?”

 

“I…”

 

“Would you, say, give me a handjob?”

 

Mark opens his mouth and shuts it again. He nods.

 

“Would you blow me?”

 

Mark nods again.

 

“Would you let me tie you up?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Would you let me spank you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How about flog you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’d do a lot of things to call me Wardo, Mark.”

 

“I would.”

 

“Would you touch yourself, then? Would you touch yourself and let me watch?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Would you let me put this in you before you do it?” Eduardo asks, gesturing to the butt plug on the dinner table.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then, if you do that, if you masturbate with this butt plug in you and last until I say you can come, you may call me whatever you want.”

 

Taking the butt plug, Eduardo gestures for Mark come to him.

 

“Prop your leg on the chair,” he orders.

 

Mark complies. Eduardo doesn’t say a word as he warms up the lube. He doesn’t speak as he prepares Mark for the plug or as he pushes it inside. Mark frowns as it goes in but his face relaxes when the butt plug is snug inside him.

 

“You can start,” Eduardo says just as he switches the butt plug on.

 

Gasping, Mark starts touching himself with his right hand. He starts slowly with tentative, long touches. He takes a minute to get used to the touch before picking up his pace. But even then, Mark’s rhythm is very slow.

 

“Faster,” Eduardo orders and Mark’s hand speeds up by a fraction. “Touch the head of your cock.” Mark moans when he does. “Faster, Mark.”

 

Mark follows every order Eduardo gives for seven minutes without saying a word. He follows every command that comes out of Eduardo’s mouth without a second thought.

 

Until.

 

“Can,” Mark starts, grunting. “Can I come?”

 

“It’s barely been five minutes,” Eduardo lies.

 

“Please?”

 

“If you come now, you can forget about our deal.”

 

That makes Mark set his jaw tight. He doesn’t say a word for the next two minutes.

 

“No— now?”

 

“No.”

 

“Please, sir?” 

 

“I said, no, Mark. I’ll tell you when.”

 

Mark bites down on his lip but doesn’t stop stroking.

 

Mark makes it to ten minutes before he looks like he’s about to give up.

 

“Stop, Mark.”

 

And Mark does. He stops and fidgets where he stands.

 

Walking to Mark, Eduardo reaches out to touch Mark’s dick. The touch makes Mark jump, startled. He moans when Eduardo circles his thumb over the head of his cock.  

 

“You can come,” Eduardo says. “And you can call me however you want.”

 

It takes two more strokes for Eduardo to feel Mark coming all over his hand. 

 

“ _Wardo_ ,” Mark moans, the sound slightly strangled.

 

Something clicks for Eduardo. He feels himself smiling and can’t stop. He can’t stop because when he tries, Mark’s voice is in his head saying _Wardo_ like a broken record. And Eduardo can’t fucking stop smiling. He’s still smiling as Mark drops his head on Eduardo’s shoulder, clearly tired.

 

Eduardo wraps an arm around him, takes a boneless Mark in his arms. He sits on a chair, bringing Mark with him, to sit on Eduardo’s lap. Holding Mark, rubbing patterns on his back as Mark relaxes in his arms, Eduardo waits for Mark to come to. 

 

He knows Mark is lucid when he wriggles on Eduardo’s lap. They’re both very much aware of Eduardo’s erection.

 

“If you could do anything, what would it be?” Eduardo asks.

 

Pressing his lips together, Mark considers the question. 

 

“Anything?”

 

“Yes, anything.”

 

Mark’s smile is a bit lopsided. Like he wants to tell Eduardo he just walked into a trap but not really. He considers taking it back. Well, considers it for the split second it takes Mark to drop to his knees and press his cheek to Eduardo’s crotch.

 

Eduardo would laugh, really. If this were anyone else in the world, Eduardo would have at least chuckled. But this is Mark Zuckerberg and his face is in front of Eduardo’s crotch. This is Mark Zuckerberg blowing hot air that Eduardo can feel through the thin fabric of his boxers. 

 

“So, that’s it?” Eduardo demands, looking down at Mark. “If you could do anything, it would be blowing me?”

 

“Yes,” Mark answers, plain and simple.

 

“Well, if you _must_.”

 

This time, Mark looks up at Eduardo, smirking.

 

Mark’s long fingers take Eduardo’s boxers down. His nails scratch the skin over his hipbone. Mark blows more air but this time directly over Eduardo’s penis. He blows once, twice and then traces the curve of Eduardo’s dick, from base to head, with his tongue. Mark’s tongue is pointy, applying more pressure and less wetness. It’s not how Eduardo would have started. It’s not even something Eduardo would normally like, but something about the way Mark runs his tongue up and down and around and over and behind makes Eduardo breathe heavily.

 

Taking a moment to relax his jaw, Mark stops, nuzzling his face in Eduardo’s pubic hair. Mark’s nose tickles a bit, and Eduardo almost wants to tell Mark to stop it. He doesn’t, and before long, Mark’s tongue is sticking out again.

 

From where he stands, Eduardo can barely make out the wet muscle before he can feel the slickness of Mark’s tongue, this time flat on Eduardo’s cock. The feeling is very different, less tense, more slippery.

 

And then Mark is sucking, sucking for real on Eduardo’s dick and it… God, it is amazing. The walls of Mark’s mouth are velvety and moist and, _fuck_ , just so good around Eduardo. That’s not even all. No, there’s also Mark’s tongue swiveling over the head of Eduardo’s cock with mathematical precision. It makes Eduardo push forward. Mark, getting what Eduardo wants, bobs his head quicker. He sucks faster, licking everywhere and making Eduardo’s cock wet. Really wet.

 

Adding a hand, Mark works fast on Eduardo. He has Eduardo sighing and moaning and “oh, _fuck_ , Mark.”

 

Placing his hands on Mark’s head, Eduardo grabs onto Mark’s hair. He fucks Mark’s mouth, meets Mark’s mouth thrust for thrust.

 

He’s fucking glad he’s still sitting on the chair.

 

He’s really fucking glad when Mark sucks hard on the tip of his cock and Eduardo feels his world turn over and he comes. He comes fast inside Mark’s mouth.

 

Eduardo is sprawled on the chair when he catches a vision of Mark wiping come off his mouth.

 

It makes Eduardo’s cock twitch in interest.

 

Again.

 

*

 

“You can call me by my name,” Eduardo says into Mark’s mouth once they’re both spent on the bed. “If you want.”

 

Mark hums but doesn’t answer.

 

“Changing your mind, huh?” Mark asks eventually.

 

Eduardo opens his eyes to see Mark smirking at him. 

 

 _Jesus_ .

 

“You needed to be disciplined before,” Eduardo explains.

 

“And now I don’t?”

 

“You do. But you don’t need to call me sir anymore.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because now that you know how to follow orders, we can use the names for playing more special games, Mark.”

 

**iv.**

 

When you’re in Eduardo’s line of work, people tend to assume sex means nothing. 

 

They’re wrong. Sex means everything. Sex is intimacy. It is trust. It is being vulnerable to another human being. That having sex with someone will always mean something is a lesson Eduardo learnt the hard way.

 

That making love and fucking are different things, Eduardo learns on the job. He has to because even though he always has feelings -whether these are little, a lot or violent, it doesn’t matter- there’s a difference between having sex with someone just for the sake of being with them and having sex with someone because it’s your job.

 

So Eduardo learns to fuck. It’s an art in and of itself, and Eduardo is pro, okay? He’s fucking good at his job.

 

The only problem starts when the line becomes blurry.

 

*

 

It starts when Eduardo spends weeks bossing his client around. When he spends hours coaxing orgasms from him, patting his damp hair, whispering, “It’s okay, you can do it.”

 

The problem comes when Eduardo not only has to fuck his client, he also has to care for him. Watch over him. 

 

Because that is what doms do. They take care of their property. They take care of what’s theirs.

 

*

 

So, the first time is always the hardest.

 

*

 

There’s something wrong. Eduardo can tell because Mark has bags under his eyes and he looks… yellow. Not yellow-I-am-so-sick-I-could-drop-dead but yellow-y still. The corners of his lips still turn up when he opens the door and sees Eduardo but that’s about as much as he does.

 

“Mark?” Eduardo asks because there is clearly something wrong.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Why do people keep asking me that?” Mark snaps in turn, glaring at Eduardo.

 

“Because you look like shit.”

 

“I do not.” Eduardo is about to make a comment on the state of Mark’s _face_ but Mark cuts him off by saying, “Look, I’m not paying you to mother me.”

 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Eduardo forces himself not to lose his temper with Mark. 

 

He’s right, after all.

 

“Fine,” he says, taking off his jacket. “Go to your room and get naked. I’ll be up there in a minute.”

 

Narrowing his eyes at Eduardo, Mark stares as though he’s not sure what Eduardo is about to do. He must reach some favorable conclusion because he’s soon turning his back and walking upstairs.

 

Eduardo sighs and tries not to think about it. He shakes his head and smiles despite himself. A sad sort of smile. 

 

This is his job. Pleasure is his business. 

 

It’s nothing less than that. But it’s also nothing more.

 

Eduardo takes a moment to collect himself. To put on a face and stop thinking about rights and wrongs.

 

Upstairs, Mark is waiting, lying flat on his stomach. He twists his face around when he sees Eduardo.

 

“Eyes on the headboard,” Eduardo says on impulse (because he can’t look at Mark, not now).

 

Mark turns his face away. He remains still when Eduardo starts ghosting his fingers over Mark’s skin. His touches are light, like he’s afraid he’s going to scare Mark away. Tracing the curves of Mark’s body, Eduardo makes his way all the way up to Mark’s neck when—

 

“Mark, turn over,” he orders, very serious.

 

He notices the faint pink on Mark’s cheeks for the first time and wants to slap himself over it. 

 

Jesus Christ.

 

He touches Mark’s forehead with the back of his hand. He touches his own and then Mark’s cheeks.

 

“Dammit, Mark!” Eduardo all but screams, removing himself from the bed.

 

Mark, as it happens, is burning up.

 

“Sir?” 

 

That Mark sounds careful and doesn’t use Eduardo’s name, even though he can, strikes Eduardo. It makes him even angrier because it’s almost as if Mark’s trying to placate Eduardo’s mood.

 

“Don’t you sir me, Mark,” he snaps. “You’re running a fucking fever! A fever, Mark.”

 

“No, I’m not.”

 

“Oh, really? Where’s your thermometer?”

 

“There’s no need for that.”

 

“Your _illness_ is impairing your hearing tonight, Mark. Where. Is. The. Thermometer?”

 

Setting his jaw tight, Mark pushes off the bed, rummages his drawers and finally hands Eduardo the thermometer.

 

Eduardo grabs it, angrily, so ridiculously furious at Mark, and cups Mark’s chin, ungentle.

 

“Open your mouth.”

 

When Mark does, Eduardo sticks the thermometer in and waits.

 

He waits, glancing at his watch, willing it to do faster.

 

“Open up.”

 

He takes it out of Mark’s mouth and examines it under the light.

 

“What does it say?” Eduardo barks at Mark, handing him the thermometer. 

 

“A hundred and two.”

 

“A hundred and fucking two, Mark! You still saying you don’t have a fever?”

 

“I didn’t know!”

 

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, Mark. You’re burning up.”

 

Closing his eyes, Eduardo pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

“This isn’t a game,” he says because, even though sometimes it is, it’s fucking dangerous if you’re not careful. “And it’s really stupid for you to think you can do this if you’re sick.”

 

“But—”

 

“No. You shut up. Get dressed and under the covers. I’ll make you some soup or something.”

 

“Si-Eduardo.”

 

“Mark,” Eduardo says, looking at him. “You’re sick. Stop arguing.”

 

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Eduardo barely manages to keep it together.

 

“What were you going to say?”

 

“That I don’t have anything for a soup?”

 

“ _What_?”

 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve only got tuna cans and last time I checked, you don’t exactly make soup out of that.”

 

“Mark, I told you about the eating! Jesus, no wonder you’re sick.”

 

“I eat! Just, you know, not here.”

 

“This is your house.”

 

Mark shrugs instead of answering.

 

“Fine. _Fine_. I’ll get takeaway. You’re impossible.” The problem is not that there’s no real bite behind Eduardo’s words. The problem is that they are, inexplicably, full of fondness.

 

*

 

Eduardo manages to find a decent place that does takeaway chicken soup that promises to have it on Eduardo’s doorstep in twenty minutes. He releases a breath he had no idea he’d been holding as he hangs up. He rolls up his sleeves and goes through Mark’s kitchen for a second time. The kitchen, Eduardo had noticed five minutes ago, is very empty in a sad sort of way. 

 

He finds the cans of tuna and makes a mental list of the things Mark should have. Eduardo’s gonna make Mark do groceries when he recovers, he swears on it. This is just unacceptable. 

 

Eduardo hasn’t gone up to check on Mark since he came downstairs first. He knows he may have crossed a line there but still. It’s… Eduardo sighs because Mark is one headstrong son of a bitch and he _should_ be aware that they can’t do shit when either of them is sick. It’s not an option. And Eduardo knows Mark knew about being sick. Mark might be reluctant to accept it but he’s a smart man. He knew. 

 

And he still didn’t call to reschedule. He still let Eduardo come and when Eduardo asked first, Mark still pretended he could do this. Which is not okay, and Eduardo wants to think about the whys. _Why would Mark do that?_ But the whys can easily turn into wishful thinking so Eduardo goes back to his list until the takeaway is delivered.

 

He makes sure the soup is at an adequate temperature before he leaves some in a bowl on the counter and brings the rest upstairs.

 

Mark is under the covers, staring intently at the doorframe. When he sees Eduardo, Mark makes a noise Eduardo can’t decipher and continues staring. And by staring, Eduardo thinks Mark means to be glaring but he’s sick so it comes out as a weird, childish sort of glare.

 

“The soup’s here,” Eduardo says, walking into the room.

 

“I can see that.”

 

“Will you eat it?”

 

“Is that an order?”

 

“I guess at this point, that’s really up to you,” Eduardo answers truthfully because all and any desire he might have had to do a scene with Mark drained from him the moment he realized Mark was burning up.

 

Is still burning up, actually.

 

“You need plenty of fluids. And rest.”

 

“What are you, a doctor?”

 

“Don’t be such a brat, Mark.” Eduardo sits down on the bed, closer to the headboard than the edge, holding up the bowl of soup. “Please?”

 

“Whatever,” Mark says but still grabs the bowl. “So this is what you’re like, huh?”

 

Eduardo furrows his eyebrows. “What I’m like?”

 

“In your life. You know, outside the job.”

 

Eduardo takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. Mark’s scrutinizing him when Eduardo opens them again.

 

“Mark, why did you do this?” Eduardo asks, avoiding the question altogether.

 

“What?”

 

“You know perfectly well what.”

 

Mark shrugs.

 

It’s frustrating, to say the least.

 

“You can’t do this. You can’t pull shit like this on me.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Then why did you do it.”

 

“I didn’t know I was sick.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Why do you want to know?”

 

Well, there’s a good question. 

 

One that Eduardo doesn’t think he has the answer to.

 

“Because. I don’t know, okay?”

 

Mark breathes out and sets the soup aside. He looks straight into Eduardo’s eyes.

 

“I’m not gonna say that the best part of my week is when we do this because I actually like my life just fine. I like coding and I like my friends but… I feel more relaxed, when we do this. I didn’t…”

 

“Mark.”

 

“I’m sorry, okay? It was stupid.”

 

“It really was. You’re supposed to tell me when things are wrong. I won’t always be able to tell.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And that’s dangerous.”

 

“I said I know, alright?”

 

“Yes. Alright.”

 

“We’re good, then.”

 

“We are.”

 

Taking back the soup, Mark starts drinking it again. Eduardo feels oddly satisfied with this. 

 

“Will you stay?” Mark asks after a while. “I might need a nurse to carry me through this terrible night,” he adds dramatically.

 

“I think you can afford a real nurse, Mark.”

 

“Yeah, but they’ll probably annoy me and that’s counter-productive.”

 

Eduardo thinks it’s incredibly unprofessional. He thinks it’s way out of the range of things he should do and a little too into the things he shouldn’t do. Yet Mark is eyeing him expectantly, managing to look bossy even though his nose is now red and his eyes are half-closed with the cold. He looks disgusting by anyone’s standards, Eduardo included. Still, there’s something simply adorable about him and Eduardo has a hard time saying no.

 

Then Mark pats the spot next to himself on the bed. Eduardo crawls and lies there, never answering Mark with words.

 

He can always sneak out before Mark wakes up in the morning.

 

*

 

The following morning, Eduardo wakes up with Mark curled in on his side. He looks odd, like this. Asleep and sort of peaceful. It’s a look Eduardo has never seen on Mark but he thinks it suits him. It’s nice.

 

He should go. Really. Eduardo can’t help himself, though. He touches Mark’s forehead, still a little too warm. So he goes downstairs and remembers mournfully the soup on the counter.

 

He was supposed to come down and put it in the fridge after it had cooled down. But he didn’t and now it’s all smelly and disgusting.

 

Sighing, Eduardo calls the same takeaway place and this time, he sits down and writes the things Mark needs to shop for. Because even after a good night’s sleep, the state of Mark’s kitchen remains very, very sad to Eduardo.

 

When the soup comes, Eduardo does the same, but this time he’s gonna be leaving soon and he won’t forget the soup on the counter.

 

“Hey,” Eduardo says once he’s in Mark’s room. Mark is barely awake, his eyes keep falling close and his jaw is slightly slack. “Look, I ordered more soup. You should eat it. And fluids. And rest. There’s also more soup in the fridge, for later.”

 

Mark mumbles, still sleepy.

 

“I’ll wait for you to finish this and then I’ll get going.”

 

Eduardo hands the bowl to Mark, who takes it reluctantly. Mark finishes the soup in silence. He hands the bowl back to Eduardo saying a sleepy thank you that makes Eduardo smile.

 

Arranging his things, Eduardo walks down the stairs. He stores the now-cool soup in the fridge. He’s still smiling to himself when he opens the door with every intention to go back home and pretend he hasn’t been incredibly unprofessional.

 

Then there’s a woman standing on the other side of Mark’s front door.

 

She tilts her head to the side, a gesture that reminds Eduardo Mark, before asking, “And who might you be?”

 

Eduardo might be halfway to having a panic attack but he still remembers his manners.

 

Pulling himself together as best as he can, Eduardo stretches out his hand to her. 

 

“Eduardo Saverin.”

 

“I haven’t heard about you from my son,” she says, taking his hand. “Karen Zuckerberg.”

 

Just about as Eduardo’s about to excuse himself quickly, Mark appears out of nowhere, calling “Eduardo” out to him. He’s wearing his lose sweats and his feet are naked on the cold floor which makes Eduardo frown. But what really catches Eduardo’s eyes is the pair of handcuffs Mark’s carrying.

 

Oh, god. Eduardo wants to _die_.

 

“Well, this is unexpected,” Mark’s _mother_ says, and she, too, is looking at what Mark’s holding. “Eduardo, right?” she asks, smiling and walking past him to hug her son. “Mark, are you sick?” is the first thing she says.

 

“ _Mom_.”

 

“You are. Oh, Mark. And what are you doing on your feet! At least put something on them, you’ll get worse if you don’t. And go to bed. You look terrible, honey.”

 

“Thank you, mom,” Mark replies sarcastically.

 

“Eduardo,” Karen starts turning to Eduardo who really, really just wants to leave. “Why don’t you fetch me some oranges? We’ll make this boy breakfast.” She might have phrased that as a question but Eduardo knows an order when he hears one.

 

“Um,” he starts, not sure how to put the fact that Mark apparently doesn’t feed himself to his mother.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I only have tuna, mom,” Mark supplies much to his mom’s horror.

 

And Eduardo’s. Honestly.

 

“Mark Elliot Zuckerberg!” Karen exclaims, now not even bothering to hide how scandalized she is. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Mark apologizes but he’s looking past his mom and to Eduardo. “And mom, Eduardo really needs to go.”

 

“Does he, now?”

 

“He does.” 

 

Eduardo is for once very glad that Mark is as stubborn as he is.

 

Karen gives Mark a look that tells Eduardo the conversation is nowhere near over but she still smiles pleasantly at Eduardo.

 

“I’ll make us all dinner when Mark gets better, okay?” she says, making Eduardo want to shoot himself, _again_.

 

He walks out the door, hoping, in vain, that Karen Zuckerberg will forget about him.

 

Eduardo gets the call two days later.

 

*

 

“Mark!” Eduardo answers his phone, not even bothering to hide how glad he is to hear about him. He can’t hide it. Not after that debacle at Mark’s that even days later, Eduardo still hasn’t gotten over.

 

“Um, my mom wants to talk to you?” 

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“Sorry. I am _so sorry_ , really. She’s just. She’s impossible, Eduardo. And she made me promise to call you in a moment of weakness. Oh, god, I am _so sorry_.”

 

And that’s all the explanation Eduardo gets before Karen is on the line.

 

“Eduardo, darling, how’s this Thursday night looking for you?”

 

“For me?”

 

“Yes. For dinner, remember? Now that Mark’s already back in the office, we can all do dinner,” she explains, then adds, “I want to meet my son’s boyfriend properly.”

 

Eduardo almost chokes on the word.

 

“I hope to see you there. Here, I’ll give the phone back to Mark. Take care, Eduardo.”

 

After a weird pause and a “Mom, really?” on the background, Mark finally goes on the line again.

 

“So, your mother seems to think we’re dating,” Eduardo starts.

 

“Give me a moment.”

 

There’s some rustling and Mark saying “ _Bye_ , mom” before Mark starts speaking to Eduardo again.

 

“I am so sorry. And yes. I tried to explain it to her but she kept going on and on. And it was really hard without telling her what it is you do so…”

 

“So you told her I’m your boyfriend.”

 

“She assumed and I didn’t correct her?”

 

“Oh, god, Mark.”

 

“I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I kept telling her you wouldn’t be able to make it but she made me promise and she insisted. She’s very persistent.”

 

“Yeah, I got that.”

 

“You don’t have to come. I’ll make up some excuse. Really.”

 

*

 

In the end, Mark’s mom calls again and Eduardo tells her he can’t make it because he has a business dinner. Eduardo can tell Mark’s mom doesn’t think too highly of him already but Eduardo has crossed too many lines already. He thinks it’s for the best and tells her he hopes to see her some other time, without sounding too enthused or serious on the matter.

 

Eduardo thinks he does fine. Except then Mark’s calling him again.

 

“Did you really say to her you hoped to see her some other time?” is Mark’s way to say hello this time.

 

“I was trying to be nice?”

 

“Don’t. And now you have to come to the gala.”

 

“What gala?”

 

“The gala my mom’s here for, it’s in two weeks. Some charity for whales or something. She came because she was supposed to be my plus one. I mean, I wouldn’t even bother going, under normal circumstances, but she and Dustin ambushed me a couple of months ago. I was supposed to go with my mom but now she thinks I’ve got you and as much as she’s starting to dislike your guts, she’s still saying I should take you.”

 

“So, you’re taking me?”

 

“Please?”

 

“Mark, we don’t… I don’t _do_ this.”

 

“I’m sure you’ve done this with other… _people_.”

 

“Well. Yeah. But we weren’t, you know.”

 

“Look, it’ll just be a couple of hours. She’s leaving the morning after. And I’m pretty sure she stole your number from me so this will get her out of your hair while I come up with some plausible story to tell her.” At Eduardo’s silence, Mark adds, “I’ll pay extra.”

 

Eduardo’s first impulse is to tell Mark that it’s not about the money. That he couldn’t give a fuck for the money. Then he thinks better of it because that would entail explaining _why_ it’s not about the money. 

 

And money is always a simpler choice, anyway.

 

“My rate’s three thousand for the night, no sex.”

 

“I doubt we’ll be having sex with my mother in the house, Eduardo,” Mark snaps. “You’ll have it by tomorrow and I’ll have a car pick you up. Chris will e-mail you any relevant details.”

 

Mark doesn’t wait for anything more before he hangs up.

 

*

 

Chris turns out to be not only Mark’s friend but also his PR manager. He e-mails Eduardo with the date, place and attire instructions. He writes Eduardo details about the gala and the whales. He underlines how important it is for Eduardo not to mention that Mark _hired_ him and then mentions how he’s aware of their confidentiality agreement and that it covers this event, too. 

 

Eduardo spends an hour convincing himself he can do this. He almost calls Mark three times to cancel but he’s already made the deal. And he feels bad for Mark’s mom. He feels horrible for Mark’s mom, actually.

 

So Eduardo forces himself to be a professional adult about this and not think about how angry Mark had seemed over the phone. 

 

*

 

Except then it’s been four days, and Eduardo has had to leave two messages on Mark’s voicemail because he’s not taking calls from Eduardo.

 

At this point, all Eduardo wants is a confirmation of cancellation. Really.

 

On fifth day, Mark calls him.

 

“You called?”

 

“Yes, for like, three days. What’s up, Mark?”

 

“Nothing,” Mark answers.

 

His tone is like a bucket of cold ice.

 

“Listen, we’ll have to put everything off. My mom’s staying with me,” he explains and Eduardo wants to say there’s always Eduardo’s place but he knows when he’s being told off.

 

“Mark, if there’s anything wrong—”

 

“There’s nothing wrong. I’m just calling things off for two weeks.”

 

“Mark you can’t do that.”

 

Because he can’t. He can’t just tell Eduardo to go fuck himself for two weeks like it’s nothing. It’s isn’t nothing. It’s the exact opposite of nothing.

 

“I think it is within the contract for me to decide when and where,” Mark argues, tone clipped, angry.

 

Eduardo tries to be reasonable about this. Tries to understand what’s happening but Mark has never been like this. 

 

“Mark, you can’t just call things off for _two weeks_.”

 

“I think I can and that’s what I’m doing.”

 

The words make Eduardo snap. “What the fuck is wrong with you these days?”

 

“I’m busy, okay? I need to go.”

 

“Mark,” Eduardo tries again.

 

“I’m busy and I need to get to work,” Mark repeats.

 

And it isn’t Mark’s words that drain the patience out of him but the way he says them; like his word is the last thing in the universe. As though nothing is above or beyond him, and that’s a fucking mistake because Eduardo gets a say in this, too, whether Mark likes it or not.

 

“Fuck you,” Eduardo barks into the receiver and hangs up.

 

Eduardo sits down on his couch, trying to make sense of what just happened. His hands are shaking, he can’t stop them from shaking. 

 

He wonders if he should start making arrangements for termination but just thinking about it makes him sick to his stomach.

 

He really isn’t looking forward to this weekend.

 

*

 

On Saturday morning, Eduardo starts arranging his things. He starts with his investments, getting all his paperwork in order (which isn’t much of a task considering he’s pretty anal about keeping things in line). Once that’s done, Eduardo moves onto his bills and every other loose end that he can find.

 

He occupies his hours reading about the stock market and making projections, pointedly not thinking about Mark or that e-mail in his inbox with the gala details.

 

Eduardo might be mistaken, but it looks like he’s not going to that. He’s still waiting for a call from Mark to return the money.

 

*

 

By Sunday afternoon (two days to the gala), Mark hasn’t called. Eduardo feels like a lovesick adolescent except he isn’t a teenager and he’s not in love (because Mark’s still his client and that would be wrong on so many levels Eduardo can’t even think about it).

 

He dials Mark’s number with everything ready to make the money transfer.

 

His call, naturally, goes straight to voicemail. Eduardo has a hard time breathing as he waits for the beep, trying to control the sudden, irrational rush of anger. 

 

“Listen, Mark, I’m calling to ask if/how would you like your money back. For the gala. Give me a call or e-mail me or whatever.”

 

Eduardo hangs up, closing his eyes and telling himself it’s alright.

 

It’s perfectly fine if Mark wants to be an asshole. It’s honestly good that he won’t have to see Mark again.

 

Eduardo hates complications. And this situation with Mark? It’s becoming fucking complicated.

 

*

 

Eduardo’s resolve, of course, lasts all of two hours when he literally has to remind himself that calling Mark again would make Eduardo seem like a stalker.

 

And yet, Eduardo wants to call. Badly. Wants to yell at Mark and demand a fucking explanation because, dude, this is not on. Actually, what Eduardo wants is for Mark to call him back. Just so Eduardo can tell him how much of a douchebag he is.

 

Okay, maybe not that, Eduardo thinks over a cup of tea (that, contrary to the label, is not really all that soothing) as he stares at his phone, willing it to ring.

 

But it doesn’t.

 

His phone remains dead silent, and every time Eduardo stares at the screen, he feels his stomach sink. 

 

*

 

Eduardo doesn’t get a call back that night or the day after but on the morning of the gala, a girl named Ashley is on the phone with him.

 

“Hello, is this Mr Saverin?”

 

“Yes, who’s this?”

 

“I’m Ashley, I’m calling from Mark Zuckerberg’s office. This call is to confirm your assistance to tonight’s event. Mr Saverin?”

 

Eduardo wants to punch Mark in the face for being a douchebag but he also wants to see him, badly.

 

“Yeah, I’m going.”

 

Trying to get his nerves under control, Eduardo walks to his closet and chooses a tux, matching shoes and socks. He’s nothing if not a perfectionist. He wastes some time until he has to take a shower and start getting ready to see Mark. 

 

*

 

Mark is waiting for him at the entrance along with Karen and two guys that Eduardo can’t recognize when the driver pulls over to let Eduardo out.

 

Mark looks… Well, he looks absolutely ravishing, Eduardo observes with a certain sadness because Mark’s also pointedly ignoring Eduardo.

 

“Eduardo, you look lovely,” Karen greets him.

 

“So do you, Mrs Zuckerberg. I love that color on you,” Eduardo says and manages to not sound too gay about it, which in turn makes Mark’s mom blush.

 

“This is Chris,” she says gesturing to the blond guy (who is nothing like what Eduardo had pictured from the e-mail Chris sent). “And Dustin.”

 

Dustin is the first to take Eduardo’s hand beaming and saying something about how he can’t believe Mark landed Eduardo, “because, dude, you’re hot.”

 

“Dustin, shut the fuck up,” Mark says.

 

“Language, Mark,” Karen warns and Dustin grins broadly while Chris snickers and Eduardo feels entirely out of place.

 

“I’m going to fire you, Dustin. Just you wait.”

 

Dustin laughs before going on about how much Mark wounds him and, “Mrs Z, tell him he’s being unreasonable.”

 

“I don’t know, Dustin, I don’t think I liked your earlier comment, either,” Karen says but she, too, is smiling.

 

“I was merely complimenting Eduardo, here. Come on, man, you’ve got to side with me on this one.”

 

“Sorry. But I actually think I’m the one who lucked out with Mark,” Eduardo answers, mostly to get Mark to look at him.

 

Which Mark does. Mark and the other three. They all stare at Eduardo for a couple of seconds. Mark and Chris looking baffled, Dustin grinning and Karen with soft eyes.

 

“Seriously, Mark,” Dustin starts again. “Where did you find him? Hey, Eduardo, do you have a sister? Close cousin, maybe?” 

 

“Even if I did, I don’t think I’d introduce you.”

 

He’s being half-honest. If only because Dustin seems like a handful. 

 

“Wow. I take it all back. You two really deserve each other.”

 

“Well, now that the matter’s been settled,” Chris says. “Can we please go inside?”

 

“But they have all wounded me, Chris! I’m in pain. Pain of the soul. It’s very tragic.”

 

“Dustin, if you don’t shut up, _I_ will personally cause pain to your soul,” Chris threatens, leading them into the hall.

 

Eduardo walks behind them. Mark notices because he waits for his mom and Dustin to walk past him so he can be next to Eduardo.

 

“Hey,” he says.

 

“Hey,” Eduardo replies. 

 

“I… I’m sorry. It’s been an odd couple of days.”

 

And of all things, Eduardo wasn’t expecting _this_. 

 

He takes it as best as he can, almost forgetting entirely how angry he was over the weekend. Tries not to over think it and instead smiles at Mark because if Eduardo’s being honest, he’s missed him more than it’s allowed.

 

“We’ll talk later?” Eduardo asks.

 

“Yeah.”

 

*

 

Eduardo is, oddly enough, moved by the whole whale cause and actually donates money. Mark rolls his eyes at him, commenting on how Eduardo’s probably just doing it to win Mark’s mom over at which Karen interrupts, saying she’s glad Eduardo tries so hard. It is a very good cause. 

 

The four of them talk through dinner. Karen and Dustin have already warmed up to Eduardo halfway through but Chris keeps a blank face whenever Eduardo talks. Eduardo thinks someone might’ve hit Chris under the table because he grimaces before giving Eduardo a false smile.

 

Eduardo doesn’t mind. He’s done this before. In his mind, this is one of his many occupational hazards. And it’s not even a particularly problematic one if no one makes a big deal out of it. 

 

Mark, on the other hand, seems to take Chris’ hostility to heart and becomes insufferable after the second course. It almost becomes a full-blown fight by the time the waiters bring in the entrée. It’s unpleasant enough that Karen puts both hands on the table, saying, “Boys, if you have a problem, it’s best for you to take it outside.”

 

Chris is the first to stand up. When he notices Mark isn’t doing the same, he mutters, “Well, are you coming or what?”

 

Setting his jaw tight, Mark stands up as well.

 

They take their sweet time. 

 

Eduardo is nearly done with his chicken, and the fact that neither Chris nor Mark has returned is starting worry him. 

 

He’s seen these fights. And it can get very ugly, very fast.

 

“I think I should go look for them,” he announces, standing up.

 

*

 

Outside, Mark is making wild gestures with his hands while Chris pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

“She came in when he was still here,” Mark is saying. “What was I supposed to say, Chris? ‘Sorry, mom, you’ve got it wrong, that’s actually a hooker’?”

 

Chris drops his hand, looking like he’s about to hit Mark.

 

“Fine. Fucking fine, Mark!” he yells, turning his back and missing the fact that Eduardo’s there. Chris starts walking back but then shakes his head and whirls around again to face Mark. “You know what, Mark? Fuck you. I’m trying to be your friend, you asshole.”

 

This time Chris does walk back. He stops dead on his tracks upon seeing Eduardo at the entrance. Blushing, Chris says something Eduardo can’t make out before walking back inside.

 

Taking this as his cue to talk to Mark, Eduardo walks to where he is.

 

“How much of that did you hear?” Mark asks, clearly nervous.

 

“It’s fine, Mark. I’ve heard worse, trust me.”

 

“That doesn’t make it any better. Chris—”

 

Eduardo is touched, really. That Mark tries to justify Eduardo. 

 

“He doesn’t understand. And he’s worried,” Eduardo says because as touched as he is, he understands where Chris is coming from.

 

“Why are you being so noble about this? He was talking about you, you know.”

 

“Of course I know. But I’ve heard worse from people who didn’t care half as much as Chris does. Come on, let’s go back inside.”

 

Eduardo stretches out his hand to Mark who takes it without a moment’s pause.

 

*

 

Dinner is tense all the way through desert until Mark says he has to go to the bathroom and Dustin drags Karen to the dance floor.

 

“I know you think he deserves better than me. Better than having to pay for this,” Eduardo starts without wasting a second. “But I also believe this is Mark’s choice. And he’ll eventually realize he deserves more. I’ll step aside when that time comes.”

 

Chris gapes at him for a moment. He composes himself quickly, though.

 

“I don’t get. Why’d you do this?” he asks.

 

“Some things just happen.”

 

“You don’t _just_ become, you know.”

 

“Yeah, but then one thing leads to another and then it’s too late to turn back. And I… I like it. Making other people happy. I don’t mind.”

 

“Well, that’s one way to look at it.”

 

“And the alternative is to think about how many homes I’m wrecking?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But that’s unfair. I’m not the one who goes out looking.”

 

“Still.”

 

Eduardo quirks his mouth up. He knows this is not argument he can win. Not with someone like Chris, who has such moral standards. Eduardo told Mark where Chris is coming from, and he does. Eduardo’s been in the business long enough to see where friends and family stand on his profession. It’s rarely good for Eduardo. But he understands.

 

He’s not going to say anything else on the topic.

 

Then Chris says, “I’m sorry. About what I said. I’m sure you’re a nice guy. It’s just… Mark’s my friend.” 

 

Chris says the word friend like that explains everything. Like that is reason enough to feel protective and to want the best for him. Eduardo wonders if Mark knows how lucky he is. He probably does, even if just unconsciously.

 

Eduardo wants to say something else but Mark is already walking back to their table.

 

“You should take Mark to the dance floor,” Chris suggests when Mark’s within earshot. 

 

“Chris, you know I don’t dance.”

 

Chris smirks. “Yeah, but I’m sure Eduardo does.”

 

Chuckling, Eduardo admits that he does, in fact, dance. With that, he grabs Mark’s wrist to drag him to where Dustin and Karen are doing some appalling attempt at waltzing to some slow pop. Before he loses sight of Chris, Eduardo flashes him a grin, all teeth and dimples, and when Chris smiles back at him, Eduardo wishes they could be friends. He’d like a friend like Chris. Eduardo knows this much.

 

“I really have no idea, what I’m doing,” Mark complains.

 

“Oh, you’ll learn. I’m an _excellent_ teacher.”

 

*

 

After they dance, it’s better. Mark steps on Eduardo’s foot more times than Eduardo can count but he manages to find it funny every single time (if only because Mark keeps alternating between cursing and apologizing). Eduardo is actually half-limping by the time they get back to their table.

 

Dustin won’t stop giving Mark crap about breaking Eduardo’s toes while Mark keeps insisting that he has no idea what Dustin is talking about. When they turn to Eduardo, Eduardo turns to Karen to talk about whales, and Chris laughs openly at them.

 

Eduardo can’t remember ever having this much fun at a gala for work. 

 

By the end of the night, he kind of wants to kiss Mark, drag him to bed and fall asleep together.

 

 _Well_ , Eduardo thinks to himself on the drive back home, _this has definitely become a problem_.

 

*

 

Eduardo likes the way Mark shivers when he takes out his toys. Eduardo likes the way Mark is so obvious about keeping his breathing under control and the way he almost always closes his eyes before they start. Like he’s trying to acclimatize himself. Not because it’s something he doesn’t want but because he’s not used to it. To the whole letting go.

 

He likes seeing all these things but tonight, tonight Eduardo is not thinking about those. He’s thinking about Mark and his mom, who left two days ago. He’s thinking about Mark and his friends and he’s thinking he wants to know Mark. Mark outside their contract. Mark stubbornly clinging to every thread of control there is at hand. 

 

Eduardo has Mark tied down to his bed by his wrists. Eduardo himself is sitting cross-legged on the spot next to Mark. Mark’s eyes are staring at him, and Eduardo stares right back. He thinks about the Mark he saw two nights ago and allows himself a fleeting thought about how much he wants to be closer to that and further from this. 

 

It’s a fleeting thought and next, Eduardo’s hand is on Mark’s crotch. He’s palming Mark through his boxers, carefully defining the curve of Mark’s dick. Mark trembles when Eduardo makes his way to the tip. He doesn’t make a sound. No, Mark bites hard on his lip, breathes so hard Eduardo can hear him. He doesn’t speak because Eduardo told him not to. 

 

And all the time, Eduardo has his eyes glued to Mark’s. 

 

They’ve been going at it for what feels like an eternity but the clock on Mark’s nightstand tells Eduardo it’s only been fifteen minutes. He feels like he has been holding his breath all this time. 

 

Eduardo is the first to break contact. He moves, the bed dipping under his weight. He grabs Mark’s ankles to bend his legs. Mark offers no resistance, lets Eduardo do with his body as Eduardo pleases. 

 

Sitting between Mark’s legs, he sucks on Mark’s inner thigh before placing a light kiss on Mark’s cock over his boxers. Eduardo braces himself, hands flat on the mattress. Moving up, he blows raspberries on Mark’s stomach, makes the raspberries wet before continuing on to Mark’s nipples. Eduardo takes one, then the other. When he’s done, he bends his arms so his elbows are now resting on the bed as well. He drops his head on Mark’s chest.

 

Mark’s heartbeat isn’t exactly racing. However, as he counts the beats, Eduardo decides the pace is quicker than normal. Breathing in Mark, the way he smells, Eduardo closes his eyes, staying there until Mark’s heart starts slowing down, until the pace is steady and Mark is relaxing on the bed. Until Mark isn’t breathing as hard as he was. 

 

Then Eduardo lifts his head. He shuffles his legs so that he’s entwined with Mark from the waist down. Grinding, Eduardo uses his position as leverage to move up, up to Mark’s face.

 

They’re staring at each other again. Mark’s pupils are blown. His eyes look darker than Eduardo has ever seen them. Eduardo stares into Mark’s eyes, makes out the thin ring of blue and can’t help himself.

 

Bending down, Eduardo takes Mark’s mouth. Claims it for himself in a way he’s never claimed any part of Mark before. He claims, bites, sucks and bruises until he, too, is panting. 

 

“You can speak,” Eduardo says into Mark’s mouth. “If you want, Mark,” he whispers on Mark’s lips.

 

He kisses Mark’s mouth, running his tongue along Mark’s bruised lip. Eduardo dips his tongue in once more. One last time before dropping onto Mark like a deadweight. 

 

Cradling his face in the crook of Mark’s neck, Eduardo sucks a hickey where he feels Mark’s pulse, still steady. 

 

“Tell me what you want.”

 

“Fuck me.”

 

It should be a fucking cliché that Eduardo’s own heart jumps at this. But it does. Eduardo’s heart jumps and races as he untangles their legs and grinds down. It’s been three nights since the gala and Eduardo has been wanting this ever since.

 

Pushing up and away from Mark, Eduardo sits on his own heels. He removes his shirt before standing to get rid of his pants and boxers. Eduardo leaves Mark’s for last, undressing him only after he’s done with his own clothes.

 

After untying Mark’s wrists, Eduardo takes the condoms first, rolling one over himself before warming up some lube. He puts two fingers inside of Mark who yelps at the sudden movement but then moans when Eduardo starts moving them. Eduardo scissors Mark open like he has so many times in the past months. Pushing a third one in, Eduardo stretches Mark ring at the same time that he crooks his fingers.

 

“So, you want me to fuck you?” Eduardo asks and Mark nods, already biting down on his lip. “Can you answer me with words, Mark?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. You’re being a good boy, tonight, Mark.”

 

Eduardo knows he’s hit Mark’s spot because his back arches away from the bed at the same time that he tightens the muscles around Eduardo’s fingers.

 

And that’s about enough, Eduardo muses. Taking his fingers out, Eduardo orders Mark to turn over, on his hands and knees. He wants to see Mark’s face, wants to kiss him. But Eduardo also knows that he’s blurring way too many lines already and this gray area he’s been treading is starting to become darker and darker. 

 

Eduardo pushes his cock inside Mark slowly, breathing heavily, his hand stroking Mark’s hip. Mark groans like it hurts but he doesn’t say a word and Eduardo waits for him to relax around Eduardo, gives him all the time he needs until it’s Mark that’s pushing back a little, to tell Eduardo he’s ready.

 

He grabs Mark’s hips with both hands and fucks him for the first time ever. Eduardo sets a slow pace that Mark tries to pick up after a few minutes.

 

“Fuck,” Mark mutters, grinding on Eduardo. “Fuck.”

 

Speeding up, Eduardo sets a rhythm that has them both moaning as Mark meets Eduardo thrust for thrust. 

 

And it feels wrong. So fucking wrong because Eduardo? Eduardo wants to call Mark in the middle of the day just to hear him bitch about this or that. He wants to talk just for the sake of talking. To see Mark just for the sake of being with him. Fucking him for money feels wrong, entirely wrong.

 

*

 

Eduardo spends days freaking out over what happened. He knew, dammit. He knew it was a mistake to go all the way with Mark. He knew Mark would be able to tell. And now he probably hates Eduardo because he hasn’t called or texted and Eduardo is too busy freaking out to try to control his own nerves and contact Mark himself.

 

He’s taken to sleeping with his phone in his hand, not to mention he has to check it every fifteen minutes to make sure he isn’t missing any calls.

 

But Mark doesn’t call.

 

And it freaks him out even more.

 

Because what if that was a goodbye?

 

What if Mark still hasn’t gotten over the whole gala debacle? What was _that_ even about?

 

They never really talked about it, now that Eduardo thinks back on it. 

 

Oh, shit. Shit, shit, _shit_. 

 

*

 

It’s almost a week before Mark actually calls Eduardo. He stammers out his words and Eduardo can’t help the voice in his head that goes _this is it_. 

 

“Can we—” Mark struggles for words. “Can we meet? Not my place, though.”

 

Eduardo’s stomach sinks.

 

“Where?”

 

“Um, I’ll text you where, yes? I gotta go, bye.”

 

Eduardo tries to tell himself that it can mean anything. That Mark hasn’t said anything final. That this is not it.

 

But that stupid voice won’t stop.

 

*

 

Eduardo starts looking for Mark as soon as he gets inside the hotel bar. He spots him in a corner but as he approaches the table, Eduardo notices Mark’s not alone.

 

Sitting across from him (sitting where _Eduardo_ should be sitting, dammit) is another man. A man Eduardo can’t recognize. A man that has this look when he’s staring at Mark. It isn’t much but something flares in Eduardo’s chest. Something that has been racketing against his ribs feels like exploding. He feels his whole body tense as he stands frozen, staring at Mark.

 

Mark, who, with downcast eyes, has his hands flat on the table. Like Eduardo has ordered him to do so many times before. 

 

And Eduardo has seen this. He’s seen this scene many times before because sometimes his clients like to go to clubs. He’s watched other couples. He knows what they look like; but this is Mark. Mark, who shouldn’t be with anyone else. 

 

Eduardo’s fists clench hard enough for his nails to leave marks on his palms. He can’t breathe properly. He can’t stop thinking, can’t stop imagining that man’s hands on Mark. Can’t stand the thought of Mark kneeling under anyone else’s eyes. Eduardo can’t stand it. He realizes the thing racketing against his ribs is his own heart that twists and drums fast, so fast it’s the only sound Eduardo can hear as he makes his way to Mark.

 

“Mark,” Eduardo nearly barks.

 

Mark jolts at Eduardo’s voice, his head snapping up to face him.

 

“You’re here,” Mark says, cheeks turning slightly pink.

 

It makes Eduardo’s stomach sink.

 

“Um, this is Jacob,” Mark starts, gesturing towards the man that Eduardo has come to hate within seconds.

 

Jacob extends a hand to him. “Nice to—” 

 

“We’re leaving,” Eduardo states, completely ignoring Jacob.

 

“ _What_?”

 

“I said, we’re leaving.”

 

Mark doesn’t answer. Instead, he crosses his arms, sinking further into the chair. 

 

Eduardo has this impulse to grab Marl by his arms and pull him to his feet. 

 

The words _don’t you dare_ are on the tip of his tongue but Eduardo holds back.

 

“Have you had anything?” he asks. 

 

“Just a couple of drinks,” Jacob answers and Eduardo wants to punch him so hard that his hand shakes.

 

Eduardo has to try very hard not to sneer at him before he lays his hands on the table and looks squarely at Mark.

 

“I’m gonna head to front desk and pay your bill. I expect you to be by the door when I’m done.” When Mark doesn’t make a move, Eduardo adds, “Now, Mark.”

 

He leaves to pay for their drinks, noting Mark standing up as he hands his credit card to the lady behind the register. 

 

This time, Eduardo grabs Mark, dragging him past the lobby and into the parking lot.

 

“Eduardo, what the actual fuck? Jesus Christ, you’re gonna break my arm. Do you want to tell me what the hell has gotten into you? Stop it,” Mark insists, wriggling out of Eduardo’s grip when they get to Eduardo’s car.

 

“Get in the car, Mark,” he orders.

 

“No.”

 

“Mark, get in the goddam car.”

 

“Why? I brought my own car. I’m not about to leave it here.”

 

“You’ll pick it up tomorrow, I don’t care.”

 

“Tomorrow? Just what the fuck is wrong with—”

 

Opening the door for Mark, Eduardo says, “Do not make me repeat myself, Mark.”

 

“Fine.” 

 

With that, Mark slides inside, slamming the door shut.

 

Eduardo wants to yell in frustration, wants to shake Mark and tell him to stop being such a fucking brat but this is not the place. He’s not going to have this conversation here.

 

“Where are we going?” Mark asks as Eduardo drives.

 

“My place.”

 

And that finally shuts Mark up.

 

*

 

Eduardo slams the door behind himself once they’re at his place.

 

The loud thud makes Mark jump but he still turns around and holds Eduardo’s gaze.

 

“Are you gonna tell what this was all about or what?” he demands.

 

“Who the fuck was that guy?”

 

“I told you, his name’s Jacob.”

 

“I didn’t ask you his name. I asked who he was. I know what I saw, I’m not an idiot.”

 

Mark’s eyes flicker. Eduardo’s stomach plummets again.

 

“It’s not what you think it is.”

 

“Where did you meet him?”

 

“It’s not like that, okay?”

 

“I asked _where_ , Mark.”

 

“A BDSM club. But it’s not- It _isn’t_ like that.”

 

His throat goes dry because he remembers. Fuck, Eduardo remembers that weekend and the disgusting pang of anger he had felt when Mark cancelled for _two weeks_. He knew. He knew something was wrong and yet he’s still surprised. He still feels like throwing up. And it doesn’t matter that Eduardo knew. It doesn’t matter one bit because the bitter taste of betrayal is fresh on his tongue.

 

“Oh, so what?” he demands, thinking about that white-hot anger that drove him to drag Mark away from that restaurant. “You just happened to stumble inside, no idea where you were?” Eduardo snarls, trying to desperately cling to what’s left of his anger.

 

“Of course I knew where I was, don’t be absurd. But I didn’t do anything with him. I didn’t. Fuck, I never thought I’d see him again.”

 

“Really? You expect me to believe that after what I saw?”

 

Eduardo can feel his insides twisting at his own words. He can’t quite pinpoint what it was. He can’t quite say what exactly it was that tipped him off but there was something about the way Mark had sat. There was something about him that _Eduardo_ should be the only one able to see. And for Mark to behave like that for someone else? It hurt. Somewhere, it hurt like nothing else.

 

“We just ran into each other, Jesus!” Mark exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “It wasn’t anything. It didn’t mean anything.”

 

“We have a goddam contract, Mark. Just you and me because it’s fucking dangerous to get other people involved. We have a—”

 

“I know we have a contract. And I didn’t break it. I didn’t sleep with him. He didn’t touch me.”

 

Eduardo stares at Mark, trying to figure out whether he’s lying or not. Mark is staring right back him as though challenging Eduardo to say otherwise. He wants Mark to be telling the truth more than anything. But even then, even then, this still isn’t right. 

 

Closing his eyes, Eduardo tries not to think about it. Tries not to ask the question but it’s there. Right in his fucking face, and Eduardo can’t very well ignore the fact that he can’t be everything. That he can’t give everything. That this isn’t a relationship and that he might not be what Mark wants.

 

“What were you doing in that club, Mark?” Eduardo finally asks, letting himself drop on the couch.

 

“I-I” Mark stammers, going bright red. It’s absolutely adorable but Eduardo’s so tired he can’t even register that. “I needed to be sure of what I wanted.”

 

Eduardo’s heart slows down for a brief second before it picks up again, faster and faster.

 

“What _do_ you want, Mark?” 

 

“I…”

 

“Mark, if you want to stop this…” he trails off, not really finding the words.

 

“No! No, I don’t. God, I…” And Mark takes a deep breath, hands inside his hoodie pocket. “I want you, okay?” 

 

“But you have me.”

 

“No, I _pay_ you. I don’t want to anymore.”

 

“You want to break this off, then?”

 

“No. You aren’t listening. I just don’t want to give you money.” It’s a full stop. Like that’s all Mark wants to say, and it takes Eduardo by surprise because what the actual fuck? But Eduardo’s surprise must be quite something because next thing he knows, Mark is closing his eyes and muttering something unintelligible under his breath.  “Shit, okay, that came out wrong. What I mean is…” he trails off, hands gesturing at the air. Eduardo isn’t a mean person. He’d help Mark out. Except Eduardo has no idea what Mark’s getting at. “I want you,” Mark says again. At Eduardo’s silence, he elaborates. “As in, I want to be with you. But not because I pay you but because you want to be with me, too.” Mark breathes out, like this has been some sort of terrible task he has finally completed. “There, I’ve said it.”

 

“But you went to a BDSM club.”

 

“I wanted to be sure. That it was you. I mean, of course I knew it was you. I just. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself. I wanted… I guess I just wanted to see how the whole thing was for, you know, regular partners, before I… god, before I asked you to, you know. Just. God, I just like you, okay?”

 

“Okay. That’s—” Eduardo can’t help chuckling. “That’s more than okay, actually.”

 

“It is?”

 

“Yeah. It’s… Well, you know, I’ve started feeling bad about you paying me, anyway.”

 

“You have?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why?”

 

Sometimes, Eduardo can’t believe how obtuse they _both_ can be.

 

“Why do you think?”

 

“So, you want it, too? To be with me, that is,” Mark clarifies, like he, too, wants to get everything straight before putting himself on the line.

 

“For a while.”

 

“For a while?” Mark parrots, slightly sad.

 

“No!” Eduardo replies quickly. A little too quickly, a little too frantic. “I mean, I’ve been wanting that for a while. I’d be happy with more than a while.”

 

“Okay. I can do that. More than a while, that is.”

 

“Good.”

 

A beat.

 

“Just for future reference,” Mark starts, looking anything but innocent. “Were you jealous? Back in the bar, I mean.”

 

“I wanted to gouge that guy’s eyeballs out with my own fingers.”

 

“So violent, Wardo.” 

 

Eduardo looks at Mark. He stares at Mark and sees this absolutely amazing person that has come to mean so much to Eduardo. Because it’s not just sex. Not with Mark. It can never be just sex with Mark, and Eduardo’s heart may or may not skip a beat at the thought of being with Mark just because.

 

It’s Mark who pushes Eduardo up against the door to kiss him with everything he’s got. Kiss him in a way that Mark has never kissed Eduardo before. Eduardo feels like his legs might give in because the way Mark’s mouth is laying claim on him makes Eduardo’s body go liquid with how happy he is.

 

*

 

Later, after they’ve moved to Eduardo’s room, after they’ve taken off their clothes and explored each other for the thousandth time, after they’ve slept and bantered about food, later, Eduardo has his head on a pillow, his face turned to Mark. He’s staring at Mark in disbelief because a part of him can’t believe they’re here. 

 

“Mark,” Eduardo starts, sitting up with his back against the headboard. “We need to talk about this.” Because they do. Now that they’re in it for themselves, it’s different. “Come on, sit up,” he says, pulling Mark next to where he is.

 

“I know,” Mark says, moving around so he’s facing Eduardo. “I mean, you can’t pull shit like that on me again. Even if I did find your outburst of jealousy somewhat endearing in retrospect.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

And he is. Eduardo has never allowed to himself lose this much control. It was wrong. Even if Eduardo’s sort of glad he did, anyway.

 

“I accept your apology because I’m high and mighty like that.”

 

“Now you just sound like Dustin.”

 

“I do not. That is absurd. Complete aberration,” Mark argues, stroking the side of Eduardo’s thigh.

 

“ _Mark_ ,” Eduardo half-whines, half-moans, and that’s all it takes for Eduardo to realize just how much Mark means to him. “We need to talk about it,” he insists because he wants to do everything right. 

 

“I know.”

 

“I’ve never done this before,” Eduardo admits.

 

Because he hasn’t. He’s never been a dom to anyone without being paid.

 

“Well, neither have I.”

 

“Yeah, I kinda I got that the first time.”

 

“I _was_ terrible, wasn’t I?” Mark asks, still smiling and stroking Eduardo’s leg.

 

“You were the worst sub I’d ever had.”

 

“That’s so mean, Wardo.”

 

“But it’s also so true, Mark.”

 

“Whatever. I don’t suck now.”

 

“Because I’ve taught you well, young padawan.”

 

Mark stops stroking and smiling at Eduardo to stare. And then stare some more, jaw slightly slack.

 

“I can’t believe you just referenced Star Wars!” he finally exclaims.

 

Eduardo feels himself grinning like an idiot because he honestly, honestly likes this side of Mark. 

 

“I know you have like a geek kink for weird shit like that but I can’t promise more on that front.”

 

Mark mock-whines. “But _why_?”

 

“I haven’t seen them all. Unlike you.”

 

“We’re marathoning them. Tahnight,” Mark announces, already scrambling off the bed to look for his boxers. 

 

It almost makes him smile, the way Mark imitates Eduardo’s voice as he drags out that last word.

 

“Mark,” Eduardo says as Mark goes on about the original movies and what not.

 

“Wardo,” Mark counters, throwing Eduardo’s briefs at his face.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Biting his lip, Mark asks, “Does it have to be _now_?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

But Mark’s already back in bed with Eduardo.

 

“Because, right now, I’m having trouble as it is keeping myself from jumping you, _again_ , and I think we need to talk about what terminating the contract will mean in terms of, you know,” Eduardo explains, gesturing at the air between them.

 

“My submission?” Mark supplies.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, I don’t know.”

 

“Mark. Do you still want to?”

 

Because that is the most important question in the matter.

 

“Of course I do,” Mark replies quickly. “What kind of question is that?”

 

“I had to be sure. You never know. This might’ve been a phase for all I know.”

 

“Don’t be stupid.”

 

“You’re so pleasant, Mark.”

 

“You wouldn’t be with me otherwise.”

 

“That’s true. So. You still want to be my sub. And I still want to be your dom. Just, not all the time.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, I’m not gonna embark in a 24/7 dominant/submissive relationship with you right now. I… We’re not ready for that.”

 

“Obviously,” Mark agrees easily, surprising Eduardo.

 

It’s not like Eduardo thought Mark wanted a 24/7 relationship. It’s more that Mark is usually very stubborn. 

 

“So, um, any suggestions?”

 

“We could always have a word,” Mark supplies.

 

“Like a safe-word?”

 

“Yeah, but for starting as well. I don’t know.”

 

“No, no, that’s good. It works, I think? We can try it out. But if you don’t like it or whatever, we talk about it. I mean, we have to talk about these things, Mark.”

 

“I know, Wardo.”

 

“Okay.” Then, “I’m hungry.”

 

“Of course you are. _I’m_ hungry, too. And to think Jacob had ordered some exquisite dishes.”

 

“Oh, _god_ , Mark, don’t say his name!”

 

“Is that an order?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Eduardo says, “Don’t be difficult, Mark.”

 

“I didn’t hear a no, or a yes, for that matter, in there.”

 

“It was a suggestion. A highly recommended suggestion. A sort of plea because I might get sick the next time you say his name.”

 

“You’re being melodramatic.”

 

“I am, but you must like me that way.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Good.”

 

There’s a pause where Eduardo considers dragging Mark on his back again but Mark starts biting down on his lip and doing things with his hands. Things that tell Eduardo this isn’t really the time. 

 

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” Eduardo asks after Mark has opened and closed his mouth a couple of times.

 

“About your, uh, _job_ ,” Mark starts but stops like he doesn’t know where he wants to go with this. “I know you… I know _I_ have no right asking you to stop, you know, doing what you do. But, see, the thing is, I make a ridiculous amount of money, and I’m perfectly capable of supporting us both, really—”

 

“You want me to stop?”

 

Mark nods. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, staring down at his hands like he’s feeling guilty.

 

“No, it’s… I’d want you to stop, too. If the roles were reversed.”

 

At this, Mark’s head snaps to look at Eduardo. He’s already brightened up.

 

“Although, I’m not gonna be your kept man, Mark,” Eduardo says.

 

“But—”

 

“I have other stuff.”

 

“Like what?” Mark asks, narrowing his eyes.

 

“Like, stock stuff.”

 

“You mean financial market stuff?” Mark demands in his slightly frigid tone.

 

“Yeah. I, uh, invest, shall we say. That, and I also have a considerable savings account.”

 

“Wait a minute, you have _investments_?”

 

“Mark, what exactly did you imagine I do with my time when I’m not having sex with you? Bake some cookies and plan how many times I want to make you come?”

 

At the question, Mark blushes. “I don’t know. You’re all private and shit.”

 

“I have to be!” Then he amends, “Had to be. I’ll… tell you anything you want to know.”

 

Tilting his head, Mark looks like he’s pondering on Eduardo’s words. 

 

“What’s wrong with you and your family?” he asks eventually.

 

“Except that,” Eduardo replies immediately. “At least, not now?” Then, “How did you know to ask about them?”

 

Mark shrugs.

 

“You’re smart. And have poise or whatever, Wardo. You’re all educated and shit and that’s… that’s something that you can’t just learn. Not the way _you_ behave, anyway. I mean, I guess it came handy in your _past_ employment but you can’t fake that. So, I assumed you were born into a nice American—”

 

“Brazilian.”

 

Mark raises his eyebrows. “Brazilian,” he corrects. “Nice Brazilian family of means. But you still had sex for money so that meant you had a falling out or something.”

 

“You’ve thought about me that much?”

 

Mark gives him his best please-don’t-be-stupid-you-know-how-much-that-annoys-me look, and Eduardo’s heart feels like it might explode with joy.

 

“So, you’re not telling me about your family?”

 

“Not today.”

 

“Then what are you telling me today?” Mark presses.

 

“I’m telling you about my investments!”

 

It’s funny, the way Mark’s face literally falls. “That is so boring.”

 

“Aw, but you said you wanted to know about me!”

 

“Yes, _you,_ not where your money comes from. That’s… blah.”

 

“Don’t be such a brat,” Eduardo admonishes, though he doesn’t really mean it and Mark must know that, too.

 

Eduardo wonders if Mark feels as absurd as he does as they grin broadly at each other.

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

They try it. The word thing. It turns out to be more complicated. It’s the mix-ups (“No, Mark, I meant an actual Marlin”) and the way sometimes their moods don’t match. Eduardo knows he’s not the only one who thinks this was so much simpler when he was a hooker. It’s harder to make their schedules match – mostly because now Eduardo gets a say in the when and where as well and he likes abusing this newfound power. They have to make concessions on the things they want to try because Mark has apparently been avidly exploring all sorts of kinks, and Eduardo has to agree to at least consider them. There are things he will definitely not do. Ever. And things that Mark says no to, resolutely. But there are gray areas where they have to compromise for each other. 

 

It isn’t a walk in the park. It takes a lot out of them. 

 

And it’s absolutely worth it. Every argument is worth it because at the end of the day, Eduardo gets to call Mark his boyfriend and that makes all the difference.

 

*

 

Okay, if he’s honest, Eduardo hates the word. Okay, no, hate may be too strong. It just bothers him. The mistakes. The general awkwardness of just saying a word. Like a simple sound can just change the entire atmosphere. It doesn’t, okay? Eduardo can be doing whatever he does and then Mark can say “Marlin”. Eduardo is still doing what he was doing two seconds ago. The word doesn’t change a thing.

 

And that bothers Eduardo. It feels… empty, somehow.

 

He tries to work his way around it. When that doesn’t work, Eduardo starts contemplating alternatives.

 

Like most things with Mark, the idea comes to him in an odd domestic moment where he’s picking up Mark’s clothes (he just can’t stand the mess, okay? Mark might be able to live as a hoarder but Eduardo needs to be able to see the floors) and he finds himself putting away Mark’s belt. Mark rarely wears belts. The only reason this particular one is all over his floor is because Mark had to wear a suit and Eduardo had jumped him as soon as they were inside Eduardo’s house. 

 

Anyway, he’s putting away the belt when it hits him.

 

Eduardo feels slightly stupid for not thinking about it earlier.

 

*

 

Eduardo goes out that weekend to buy a discreet leather band. He debates colors. He likes black leather and coppery buckles. But Mark definitely likes more the blue shades, and coppery and blue just don’t go so Eduardo doesn’t bother looking for some bizarre mix of their tastes. It’s for both of them, Eduardo reasons. They _both_ have to like it. 

 

In the end, Eduardo goes for neither.

 

He decides on a dark brown leather band with a silver buckle that is simple but elegant. It’s about an inch wide and when Eduardo buys it, he feels giddy. He feels giddy on the ride back to Mark’s and giddy when Mark opens the door and pushes Eduardo up against the wall.

 

“Marlin,” Mark breathes out.

 

Eduardo pushes off the door.

 

“God, I think I hate that word.”

 

“Wardo?” Mark asks, clearly confused.

 

“It’s… doesn’t it annoy you? Having to, to say it when it’s… just a word.”

 

“And you have any other suggestions?”

 

At this, Eduardo goes pink but he still holds up the bag.

 

“I… thought about it. And this seemed… Well, it seemed appropriate, okay? And you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. It’s just an idea, really.” And Eduardo keeps talking nonsense, half apologizing, half justifying himself, as Mark snatches the bag.

 

Mark holds out the collar. He stares at it before staring at Eduardo like he’s trying to wrap his head around the whole situation.

 

“You want us to do collars?”

 

“Yes,” Eduardo answers, perhaps a little too excited. “Not like, all the time. Just, you know. When we feel like doing a scene. Like, you can give it to me whenever you feel like it.”

 

Mark stares some more but this time, he’s smiling softly, like he appreciates the gesture.

 

“So who gets to keep it?”

 

Well, Eduardo hadn’t gotten that far in his plans.

 

“Um.”

 

“You really plan for this sort of thing, don’t you?”

 

“Oh, shut up. And you can keep it,” he says on impulse.

 

“Why me?”

 

“Because! I… It’s always your choice, Mark.” And now Eduardo is all seriousness. “Look, I like what we do. I wouldn’t do it otherwise but you’re the one who’s submitting to me and you should decide when that happens. And if I really don’t feel like it, I’ll always tell you. Or, if I really feel like it, I’ll always talk to you. But you should keep it.”

 

“Okay,” Mark agrees, just like that.

 

“Just like that?”

 

“Yeah. Just like that.” 

 

And with that, Mark’s holding out the collar to Eduardo.

 

“I thought we just agreed you’d keep this?”

 

“Don’t be daft. I want to, _now_.”

 

Eduardo lets out a small “ah”. 

 

He’s about to ask if Mark’s sure but Mark gives him a look before Eduardo can get a word out of his mouth. Instead, Eduardo takes Mark’s hand and squishes tightly. 

 

Eduardo’s hands shake slightly as he unbuckles the collar. He runs his fingers over the leather, the small holes, before taking a step to Mark. Eduardo reaches behind Mark’s neck.

 

“Tell me if it’s too tight,” he says as he puts the collar on Mark.

 

The contrast is stark and Eduardo is momentarily breathless by it. Then Mark’s fingers come to touch the leather.

 

“Thank you,” Mark says, closing his eyes.

 

It starts slow in his fingertips, the urge to touch and kiss Mark. Eduardo feels like pressing his lips against Mark’s. Like kissing him deeply, in the middle of Mark’s hall like there’s nothing else in the world. Eduardo does. He kisses Mark just like that because he wants to. Because he can.

 

And Mark kisses him right back. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** A while ago, I wrote this D/s scene. I had no idea that would morph into this fic. A fic that i am honestly so proud of. And that's all thanks to the wonderful,  _wonderful_  people that have helped me! So, yeah, A for being the first person ever to realize there could be more to this and for hand-holding me while I was being a baby. J for being an awesomely quick and supportive beta! And, of course, many, many thanks to C for simply being an amazing human being and bearing with me through all the horrible mistakes and laziness. Really, you're all fantastic people and I adore you all so, so much.
> 
> Also, THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC THAT I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. And while I'm aware that there are far longer and greater fics, it makes me insanely excited.


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